


Camp Rainbow

by RudexAndxNotxGinger



Category: Original Work
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, Homophobic Language, Homosexuality, M/M, Religious Content, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-20
Updated: 2017-01-10
Packaged: 2018-09-10 17:42:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 35,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8926366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RudexAndxNotxGinger/pseuds/RudexAndxNotxGinger
Summary: Mickael Smith is just your average everyday run-of-the-mill gay juvenile delinquent who got busted for vandalism. His community service hours are filled by washing dishes at a kids summer camp run by a bunch of religious nuts.Originally dreading the time there, Mickael soon changes his mind when he meets a beautiful young man named Elliot, who he quickly befriends. But Mick is interested in being more than just friends. And Elliot thinks it's a sin.





	1. Perfect

It had been a good plan; a good plan that went horribly wrong.

Actually, the plan went fine, but the follow-through is what went so horribly wrong. Don’t get caught; that was the goal. The only thing I had to do was not get caught.

I got caught.

It was classic: a perfect portrait of the high school principal, sucking a dick, spray-painted on the cobbled brick walkway in front of the school. It was huge; it took me two hours from start to finish. And I suppose that was my downfall: I had to make it fucking huge. If I’d spent less time on a smaller painting maybe the cops wouldn’t have been there in time. But they were. And damn if my mother wasn’t right about keeping my shoelaces tied…

There was no way in hell I would ever tell anyone that I’d tripped over my shoelaces while running from the fuzz. Because it didn’t happen, okay?

Right.

 

But today was the day. Actually, it was the last day of three in the discussion of my legal troubles. I was only eight days away from my eighteenth birthday, so I had no idea what kind of punishment they would dish out. Was I going to prison? Juvie?  They’d already agreed to try me as a juvenile, so things were looking up.

My social worker who also doubled as my public defender (gotta love small towns,) gave me a nudge to stand when the judge entered the courtroom.

The oh-so-honorable Judge Matthews sat down and we all followed. All three of us: The lawyer, the guard, and lucky-ol’-me. My mom had to work. And my dad? Hell if I knew. If he showed up for his own funeral I’d be impressed.

 

 

“Will the defendant please rise?” The Judge drawled out lazily.

I’d just sat down, but I stood anyway, feeling a little nervous that this would not go well. Luckily Mara, my social worker/lawyer, stood with me. I felt her hand supporting me by the shoulder, and although it was an invasion of my personal space I excused it, because I was in fact feeling a little woozy.

“I’ve made a few calls.” The judge was rather informal for being so formal, and he looked at me from beyond his bifocal glasses with sort of a pitying gaze. I hated pity; the fuck with pity. But if pity meant that I get no jail time… then pity away, Judge.

“I hope you realize, son, that what you did to school property was deplorable. And I hope to never see you in my courtroom ever again.”

I instinctively shook my head, but I said nothing, scared shitless as to what he would say next.

“I was going to send you to a juvenile facility, but it seems the Good Lord has intervened on your behalf. A good friend of mine has just made me aware that he’s in need of some volunteers.”

I nodded my head in response; my mind was frantically trying to truly grasp what he was saying to me. No prison? No juvie?

“For your crime of destruction of public property, Mickael Smith, you are being sentenced to two-hundred hours of community service, with no time served in prison, provided that _every_ hour is accounted for and performed to the satisfaction of your supervisor.”

A huge sigh of relief came from Mara, and I wasn’t quite sure if I was even breathing yet.

“Thank you judge.” Mara nudged me with her elbow again, trying to force a response out of me.

“Thank you…?” I had no idea where the question mark in my voice came from. I guess I was still in shock.

“You’ll be serving your two-hundred hours over the course of five weeks at Camp Firewood. It’s real close to home, and it’s good work.”

“Thank you Judge.” I finally articulate properly. What I was really thinking was something more along the lines of: _Camp Firewood? You mean that crazy religious nut group? You can’t send me there!_

But I obviously couldn’t say any of that. I should be kissing his feet in gratitude that I didn’t get jail time for getting caught with a can of spray paint in my hand.

And no, I had no remorse for my actions. They were going to tear up that old brick walkway anyway. The fact that I got in trouble for destroying something they were going to wreck in a matter of days was total bullshit. From my point of view, I was the victim here; the victim of a tattle-tale old lady with the sheriff department on her speed-dial.

 

 

 

The rest of the hearing went by like a blur, and all I remember was feeling like an anvil had been lifted off my chest. I left the courtroom without as much as a word to Mara. I didn’t need her telling me what to do. I was a free man. Well…. As soon as the summer was over and I got all that community service shit done, _then_ I was a free man.

Then I would be gone, gone, gone.

 

 

“Caleb, you little twink. I knew I’d find you in here.” I smacked good ol’ blondie Caleb on the back of his head as my customary greeting. The little brat was reading.

“You reading? What do you need that shit for? It’s your summer break. I thought you were some genius or something like that.”

“This is a library, Mick.” Caleb kept his voice low, fearing the prudish middle-aged librarian who would surely strike us dead with an evil glare if we got too loud. “I’m studying for a big test I have Friday. And it’s not for summer school; it’s my online college stuff. I’m hoping to have my Gen-Ed’s done by-”

“The fuck do I care?” I interrupted. “You wanna blow me or what?”

Caleb’s breath hitched in his throat and I saw his nerdy little face flush a beet red. I knew he wanted it. He _always_ wanted it.

 

We ended up in the geography section, a place that no one ever visited since Google Maps came to be. I leaned my back against the tall bookshelf while Caleb was on his knees in front of me, sucking my cock like he was starving for it.

And he was. The little slut loved my cock. I was his first, and I was pretty sure that I was still his first, since in a small town it isn’t easy to come by a guy who wants to have sex with another guy. Especially a guy like Caleb, who was so shy he could probably beat a stone statue in The Quiet Game.

But he opened up for me. And only me. I was the only one who knew his deep slutty desires. He liked to be called a whore and moaned like one when I forced my cock down his throat. And that’s what I did. Right there in the Finton Memorial Library. I fucked that warm mouth like I was paying for it.

But it was Caleb who paid me. He came from a family of means, and I… well…. did not. It wasn’t a defined business arrangement, but ever since he heard that I was broke he would stick a couple of twenties in my jacket pocket when we were finished.

And yes, we both finished. The little cum-whore would swallow my release and all it took for him to finish was one or two strokes with his hand and he was coming in his jeans. I wondered why he never got the guts to ask me to suck him off. But then again, I guess I knew why. The kid was just so damn shy.

But I suppose if he had asked, I’d probably tell him to go fuck a tree. I didn’t do the sucking; I just did the fucking.

There may come a day when I’d make an exception, but there was no way that I was going to suck off blondie Caleb, the zit-covered twink who pissed his pants during thunderstorms. If I was going to get involved with a guy in that way, it’d have to be a totally different situation. I wasn’t really sure what kind of guy I’d like to find, but I figured I’d know him when I saw him. After all, that’s how the cliché goes:

 

When you know, you know.

 

 

 

“Hey, welcome to Camp Firewood! You must be Michael!”  A jovial, somewhat rotund Santa-like guy greeted me at the camp’s main lodge, the place I’d been directed to by a nice short lady by the name of Fran.

“Uh, actually it’s Mickael. But yeah, that’s me.”

“Oh, sorry. You know that’s a nice name, I like it; very unique.” Mr. Way-Too-Happy said warmly.

“Thanks. I totally picked it, you know, three whole days after I was born. I also picked the tricky spelling, since I hadn’t been to school yet, of course.”

The guy gave a laugh; a fake, polite laugh, but his smile was still real.

“I’m looking for some dude named Vic? I’m supposed to report to him for volunteering?”

“Oh yeah, sure. He’s in the kitchen. I’m Peter, by the way.” He extended his meaty hand for me to shake, but I ignored it, already making my way to where I figured the kitchen would be.

“Nice to meet you, Paul.” I waved carelessly in his approximate direction.

“It’s Peter.” He reminded as he too, walked away to do whatever the heck he was doing before I showed up.

 

 

The kitchen was huge. It was way cleaner than I expected. I expected some grungy, hole-in-the-wall fixer-upper when in reality the place was nearly immaculate. The whole camp seemed to be that way.

The door I entered in was right next to the big dishwashing rig; a stainless steel industrial appliance that probably washed a load of dishes in under a minute. But I hardly noticed the fancy digs anymore when I laid eyes on something much more impressive: A cute brunet stood at the dishwashing station. He was maybe 5’4”, skinny as a twig and had a cute freckled complexion. His hair was long, unlike mine, and he was wearing a headband and a sexy-ass apron too.

I suddenly thought that maybe community service wasn’t going to be so bad after all.

 

“Hey, did I miss the party?” I made my usual entrance; sounding familiar and unaware all at once.

The cutie looked up from his work on the tall stack of plates and smiled a little smile. I was falling in love already. The kid had the greenest eyes I’d ever seen. They were like blue-green emeralds and I had to remind myself not to gawk like some creeper.

“No party, just breakfast. Believe it or not, this is our _small_ camp this week. Next week we’ve got ninety-eight elementary school kids coming in. You here to help?” He slid a heavy-looking rack full of glass plates into the square dishwasher.

“Yeah, my name’s Mickael.” I raised my voice a few decibels so he could hear me over the now-running dishwasher.

“I’m Elliot. You watch the training video before you got here?”

“Uhhhh… no?” I wracked my brain to remember if I even heard anything about a training video before then.

“Well, since I’m in a good mood, I’ll just give you the run-down myself, okay?”

He was standing so close to me now, his hand gestures practically smacked me in the face while his back was turned to me and he demonstrated and taught all there was to the dishwashing process.

And I didn’t hear a word.

I kept looking down at his ass. Or should I say, his legs. It was like he didn’t even have an ass. There was just his torso, and then his legs. No ass. God, I couldn’t wait to get my hands on him…

“Mickael?” Elliot enunciated my name perfectly on the first try, and a pleased moan almost made it out of my mouth.

“Hmm?”

“You think you’ve got it all?”

“Uhhhh. Yeah.”

“Were you even listening?” Elliot had a skeptical look on his face.

“Sure I was. No juggling knives, and don’t use the dishwasher as a dog wash.” _Nailed it._

“Right…” Elliot pretended not to be amused by my straight-faced humor. “That and don’t touch the clean dishes with dirty hands. Remember those things and you should do great.”

“Awesome.” I shoved my hands in the pockets of my skinny jeans, not really knowing what else to do at the moment.

Elliot then looked at me pointedly, and it took a full ten seconds before I realized what he wanted.

“Oh, right! You want me to get started.” I was about to reach for the clean rack of dishes that had just come out of the dishwasher when I heard Elliot click his tongue at me.

“Wash your hands.”

“Right!” I shuffled over to the hand washing station and grabbed an apron from the shelf. Hopefully this would be enough to hide my boner. _Why did I have to wear the skinny jeans?_

 

 

Elliot turned out to be even more intoxicating than I originally thought. He was super cute; not really shy, but just enough to make him a little mysterious. He didn’t wear his heart on his sleeve, and he certainly was not afraid to speak up if the subject really mattered to him. I was already in love.

 

 

“So you’re just a volunteer, right?” I asked my new friend while we both picked at crusty cooking pots in the big scrubbing sink. “You don’t get paid for this?”

“Not in this lifetime, no.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Well I’ll get my reward in heaven.”

I laughed for a split second before I realized that he wasn’t kidding. I sobered up pretty fast. I couldn’t ruin my chances with him this quickly; we’d only just met.

“Seems a little far away, doesn’t it? I mean, that’s a long time to wait for a paycheck.”

“Might be.” Elliot’s voice echoed off a big steel pot. His tiny body was practically swallowed up while he leaned in to scrub it clean. “But we never know when we’re going to die; could be tomorrow, could be in eighty years. Only God knows.”

“Huh…” I didn’t know quite what to say to that religious nonsense. Well, I had a few ideas, but none of it was going to get me on Elliot’s good side. So I kept mum. I was getting to be so damn considerate.

“So what got you to volunteer here? Are one of your siblings here as a camper?” Elliot sounded completely oblivious to my current legal situation and I briefly wondered if it was an act. But it wasn’t. The kid seemed nearly incapable of putting on any kind of act. I had to give these Camp Firewood guys credit for not gossiping about that ‘juvenile delinquent who spray painted a deliciously obscene image right in front of the high school.’ But maybe they had, and Elliot was just out of the loop. Totally possible.

“No, it’s more like one of those… court-appointed community service things.” Hey, I had no reason to lie. And besides, there was a chance that Elliot would find the bad-boy back-story to be sexy.

“Oh.” Elliot paled a little, but he kept scrubbing his pot.

I watched him carefully as I said, “I spray-painted the walkway in front of the school. They were going to tear it up anyway, but apparently I’d offended the wrong people.”

“Oh. Did you run out of room under the bridge?” Elliot sounded smug, but not too smug. “It was looking a little crowded last I saw.”

I smiled at his joke. Elliot was perfect: his body, his smile, his sense of humor. I loved everything about him and I’d only known him for an hour.

“So you’re not a Christian then?”

Suddenly my brain, my lustful thoughts, and my day-dreaming all came to a screeching halt. _Say what?_ We were already diving into that religious crap? I was about to open my mouth for something completely unbidden to make its way out, when another guy in an apron suddenly came into view.

“Hey!” The chubby guy greeted with a casual smile. “I’m Vic. You must be Mick.” He rhymed purposefully. This guy was definitely not going to be on my favorites list. “I see El has already put you to work. That’s good. Once you’ve caught up with the breakfast dishes I’d like to see you in my office to go over some volunteer forms and watch the training video, okay?” The guy flashed another smile, revealing really yellow, un-brushed teeth that made me cringe on the inside, and possibly on the outside.

“Will do.” I turned away quickly, putting all my focus on getting remnants of scrambled eggs off the edges of a pan.

Once Vic had gone, Elliot leaned into my personal space to whisper something to me. I smelled a strong scent of some fruity shampoo and a pleasant deodorant.

“Vic is the kitchen manager. Or rather, he’s supposed to be. He’s hardly ever in here unless he’s training the new volunteers.”

“Oh.” I kept the whisper going. “Is he a volunteer too?”

“No, he gets paid. There are like, eight administrative people here at the whole camp who get paid during the summer. Everyone else is volunteer.”

“Wow. Crazy.” I didn’t really know what else to say. But at least now I knew that I was in a completely normal work environment, and not some kooky twilight zone. Everyone thought that their boss was a slacker. It was a fact of life.

 

 

Vic turned out not to be that bad. Despite his extreme halitosis and generally poor hygiene, he was a friendly guy who thought he was really funny. And maybe he was, but not to me.

While in his office we went over the service log, and the hours I’d be putting in. I was also informed that he was my supervisor for the community service hours. In my language, that meant he was the one whose ass I would have to kiss in order to get this whole thing over with. But it seemed like that was going to be pretty easy. Vic was a laid-back sort of guy. He liked the ass-kissing thing too.

 

The training video was nothing like I expected, and I was super pleased to see that my one true love, Elliot, was the star of the video. He talked to the camera like he was born for it, and he even cracked a few good jokes while demonstrating the proper use of the dishwasher. I was perhaps exaggerating when I said I was instantly in love with Elliot, but it was becoming more and more true the more I laid eyes on the kid. He was basically perfect.

There was just one problem: He was perhaps, quite possibly, and all too-very-likely… _not gay_.

 

But hey… nobody’s 100% perfect, right?

 

 

 


	2. Abomination

“God… What time is it?” I rubbed my exhausted eyes while I stared at the dishwasher, not really even hearing the loud hum anymore since it’d been running almost non-stop all day.

“You’re asking God what time it is?” Elliot asked in his adorable serious-faced humor. “I could have told you that. It’s three fifteen. We get a break as soon as this is done.” He indicated the three racks of dishes.

“Good. I really need to sit. My feet hurt like a bi…… Biscuit.” I covered an aborted cuss word for the first time in my life, and I smiled when I saw the huge grin spread across Elliot’s beautiful, sparsely freckled cheeks.

“It’s okay.” He dismissed warmly. “I don’t mind you swearing, but you might not want to let Vic hear you. He could get you in trouble for that. There are _kids_ running around here after all.”

“Right, we would hate to recruit them to the Sailor-Mouth Club. All the seats are filled up as it is.”

Elliot grinned and looked down at the floor, and my heart soared. There it was: the first sign that Elliot might have a crush on me too. We’d only worked together for one day and he was already smiling and looking away, afraid to look at me lest he betray some feeling by letting his eyes linger too long.

The dishes were done now. Elliot swept up the tile floor where we’d been working and took off his apron. I followed.

He led me outside, into the beautifully cool breeze that smelled like potting soil and something unique to the valley itself.

I loved the outdoors as much as the next guy, but I was perhaps a just little distracted from the beauty of the perfectly kept lawns and flower beds due to the beauty of the young man standing next to me. His brown hair looked more like a dirty-blonde in the sunlight; his natural highlights gleamed every so often when the light hit it just right.

We ended up on the big swing set, and although I would normally say I was too old to play on swings, I followed Elliot’s lead and soon we were in a contest to see which of us could get higher.

Elliot smiled a lot. It was hardly his most attractive quality, but it was still in the top ten. His smile made me smile. Now that quality was definitely in the top five.

He laughed a lot; at nothing, and something, and sometimes just at some random thought that went through his mind. I rarely ever laughed, but Elliot pulled a few out of me while we hung out, swinging on the swings like a couple of little kids.

We eventually slowed down when we saw a mob of forty kids rush out of the craft room and towards the playground.

“I guess we’d better split.” Elliot suggested wisely and we just narrowly escaped the teeming mass of little blood-sucking children that were scrambling for a spot on the swings.

It took me a while to recover from our close encounter with fourth graders, and Elliot caught on to my discomfort. We were walking slowly now, meandering about towards the far end of the valley. We were halfway past the soccer field when Elliot said, “So I can tell you don’t like kids.”

“Not in masses of forty or more. I sort of max out after twenty.” I was joking, of course. I hated kids. I just didn’t want to tell Elliot that.

But Elliot knew. “You used to be a kid once too, you know.”

“Not for long. I sort of grew up at around… oh, I don’t know…six years old or so.”

“Oh.” Elliot may have been for the most part a sheltered little momma’s boy, but he apparently wasn’t an idiot. “I’m sorry… Was it your dad or your mom who left?”

I got a little offended by his assumption, but since it was true I let it go. “My dad left. He left me with my mom, who wasn’t taking her medication at the time. She’s got manic-depressive disorder.”

“I’m sorry.” Elliot sounded serious, but not too pitying. It was just on the edge of pity, but not all the way there.

“What about you? You seem pretty well-adjusted so I’m guessing your parents are still together.”

Elliot shoved his hands in his pants pockets and shrugged. “Actually I have a stepmom. She’s pretty great. I never really knew my real mom; she died when I was a year old.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay. I don’t remember her at all, so my stepmom is basically like my real mom.”

Our dialogue kind of drifted off after that, neither of us knew what to say. We found a circle of benches amongst a clearing in the pine trees that bordered the valley. We sat in silence for a little bit, and my heart raced at the realization that we were totally alone there in the little piece of pine-needle covered land. There were plenty of trees preventing a clear view of anyone far or near. I had officially found our new hangout, that much was certain.

“So how old are you, El?” We were sitting so close our knees almost touched.

“I turned eighteen a week ago.”

“Really? I just turned eighteen, yesterday. That’s cool.” I was celebrating on the inside; he was legal. This perfect, beautiful boy entered my life and he was of legal fucking age. I don’t think I have ever been luckier in my entire life.

“Are you dating anyone?”

Did my ears just play tricks on me? Did Elliot seriously just bring up the dating question? That was supposed to be my question! I was so surprised that I barely remembered to answer his question.

“Not really. But I have someone on the horizon.” I gave him a meaningful smile, but he didn’t catch my meaning at all. Elliot was proving to be a pretty smart guy, but in this area, he was apparently clueless.

“What’s her name?” Elliot leaned back on the bench so he could face me.

“Uh… actually I’m not… interested… in girls.”

There was a long, _long_ pause from Elliot as his emerald eyes scanned me up and down, up and down, searching for some kind of obvious alien defect, I figure.

He took a deep breath, and let it out slowly, surprisingly not showing any emotion besides confusion, or maybe intrigue.

Finally, he whispered in a conspiratorial tone, “Are you gay?”

Just to play along, I leaned closer to him and whispered back, “Yes, Elliot. I’m gay. Gay as a pineapple.”

Elliot smiled at the phrase, and seemed to snap out of his shock a little bit. “You don’t seem gay.”

“Oh really?” I had been waiting my entire teen life to use this comeback, and I was not going to pass up the opportunity to use it. “You don’t seem straight.”

Elliot blushed a beet red at my returning comment, and he frowned contritely. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to stereotype you. It’s just that you aren’t what I’d picture a gay guy to be like at all.”

“Oh yeah? And how did you expect a gay guy to be?”

“I don’t know… I guess I expected that you’d at least be wearing a scarf.”

I laughed loudly, unable to contain my amusement any longer. This kid was just too adorable. His naivety was less so, but still cute. “A scarf? In the middle of summer?”

Elliot looked down in embarrassment.

“Look, I’m not offended.” I nudged him on the shoulder a little bit in an effort to reassure him. “I just thought it was hilarious.”

“You’re not upset?” Elliot still refused to look at me.

“No. I hope we can be friends. I’m stuck here working with you for the next 35 days so we’d better get used to each other, okay?”

Elliot nodded, and looked at me for about half a second before looking away.

“If you’re going to be weird about this whole ‘being gay’ thing then we’ve got a problem. I’m just like any other dude, El.”

“I know.”

“Then what’s the problem?” I could tell something was eating away at him.

“You’re in _my cabin_ for the summer.”

That news was like a sweet message from heaven, and I did my best not to look thrilled to hear it.

“What, are you afraid I’m going to hit on you? Recruit you? Have sex with you while you’re asleep?”

Elliot cringed at the suggestion. “I don’t know. I’m sorry I don’t mean to be so weird about it. I’m trying not to judge you, only _God_ can judge-”

“What is there to judge?” I countered defensively.

Elliot looked apprehensive, like he was treading on uncharted territory. “The Bible says that homosexuality is a sin; an _abomination,_ actually.”

“I’m aware of that. Do you think _I’m_ an abomination, Elliot?”

“Well… no…”

“Then we’ve got no problem, right?”

“The Bible is inerrant.” My friend redirected. “That means it has no flaws. Everything it says is true.”

“So that means I _am_ an abomination, huh?”

Elliot wrinkled his brow, obviously trying to think things out for himself; perhaps for the first time. “I don’t know. Logically, I guess so.”

“Right.” I rolled my eyes and stood up from the bench, stretching my legs and sore feet. “Well, this ‘abomination’ has got to get back to the kitchen to set up for supper. You coming with me or what?”

 

 

Elliot managed to get over our awkward conversation once we got back to the main lodge. He was almost back to his normal self when I suggested a contest to see who could set up their row of tables the fastest. He was convinced that he would win, since he already had two summers of volunteering experience under his belt. I gave it my best.

Elliot won by a landslide. We set all the silverware and chairs up in record time however, and got a congratulatory round of applause from Peter, who turned out to be the grounds-keeping/janitor guy. It was fun. I never imagined that I’d have fun fulfilling my court-appointed community service hours, but it was certainly a pleasantly unexpected development.

Elliot and I quickly ate our food before all the campers showed up so we were ready for all the dishes that would pile into the window. Elliot, being the more experienced dishwasher, handled the first big rush of returning plates and silverware, but he switched with me once the chaos died down so I could get some experience too. Besides, it was really tiring running around the huge kitchen putting away the clean dishes. It was nice to switch duties every once in a while.

Dinner went faster than the other meals since the kids had to clean up all the tables and chairs in order to clear the whole mess hall for a game night. Elliot informed me that the big room often doubled as an indoor gym for things like dodge-ball since they didn’t have a real gym yet.

It was entertaining to hear all the commotion of games going on while we finished up the dishes, pots, and pans all by ourselves. It was exhausting work, to be sure, but the friendship Elliot and I developed made it fun.

 

That night, exhausted Elliot and I brought my stuff to our cabin. It was called the “Dishwasher’s Cabin” for obvious reasons, and since Elliot and I were the week’s only dishwashers, we had the cabin all to ourselves. It was a tiny, bare-bones little abode that fit two single-size bunk beds and a twin bed. There was a pit-toilet outhouse right outside for emergency use, but a decent restroom with a shower was about a thousand feet away.

“Welcome to the Elm Tree cabin; also known as “The Dishwasher’s Cabin.”

“Sweet digs.” I quipped sarcastically while I hefted my stuffed backpack onto the top bunk.

“You can take whatever bunk you want.” Elliot offered kindly.

“I always top.” I only half-joked.

The joke seemed to go right over Elliot’s head, but he eventually caught it almost two minutes later while he was changing his socks, and I saw a deep red blush splotch his freckled cheeks.

“You seriously take that long to get it?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t grow up around sex jokes, okay?”

“Really? Were you _deaf_ in junior high or something?”

“I was homeschooled.” Elliot huffed out of a little bit of embarrassment and frustration due to my playful harassment. “Now if you don’t mind turning around so I can get my pajama pants on…”

“Sure, sure…” I pretended to surrender and I rotated my body away from him so he thought I wouldn’t peek.

I peeked. And God, was he ever so cute. Even his legs were spotted with little freckles. He kept his underwear on, which was a shame, because I really would have liked to see what kind of package he had. I was sure he had a cute little cock that matched his adorably petite body. He wasn’t too much shorter than me, but his whole body frame lacked anything but skin and bones. He had very little muscle tone, and not a single ounce of fat. I was officially jealous.

 

Once he had his pajama pants on, he removed his t-shirt, revealing his slightly pale, skeletal torso for me to gawk at. I tried not to, but I really did.

“Mick?”

“Hm? Yeah?” I stepped a whole foot closer to Elliot, and in such a tiny cabin it made a big difference.

“You’re staring at me.”

“I know.” Another step closer. I could almost touch him now.

“It’s… kinda making me uncomfortable.” Elliot removed his headband and shook loose his beautiful shoulder-length straight brown hair. And I thought he wanted me to _stop_ ogling?

“I can’t help it. You’re really hot.” I was right in front of him now. If he allowed me, I could kiss him.

Elliot went real quiet, and suddenly I felt like I may have ruined my chances of wooing this beautiful nymph.

“I have a girlfriend.” He finally said, but still was not looking at me.

I knew he was lying, or at least partially lying. He would have told me about a girlfriend earlier if he really had one.

“What’s her name?”

“Lexi.”

“Uh huh…” I spoke in my quiet, whispery tone that I’d never had to use before. “You two ever make out?”

Elliot shook his head, and still just stared at the hardwood floor. “We just started dating before I came here for the summer.”

“Yeah? Are you in love with her?” My hands were on his arms now, near his shoulders, and I slowly began a soft, stroking motion up and down his arms.

“I don’t know. I guess.”

“You guess? Oh El you can do better than that. You either love her or you don’t.” I tried to keep my voice quiet, and seductive. My hands made their way to his back, and my fingers stroked slowly up and down his spine. Immediately his skin broke out in goosebumps and I could have sworn that I heard Elliot curse under his breath.

“She’s my best friend.” He tried to cover.

“You ever think about having sex with her?”

“What?!” That finally got him to look at me, although not in the way I wanted him to. Not even close.

He took a step back from me, effectively removing my wandering hands from his perfect skin.

“You’re sick. _Of course_ I don’t.” He didn’t need to lie this time, and it lifted my spirits when I realized that he wasn’t just in denial.

“Elliot you’re eighteen. Do you _ever_ think about having sex with a woman?” I pried.

“Keep your voice down!” Elliot hissed. He looked genuinely upset now. Not angry, but distressed in general. He sighed loudly and plopped himself down on the twin-sized bed. I dared not follow for the time being, but I really wanted to.

“Look, _I know_ that I’m not sexually attracted to women, okay?”

His statement shocked me. This kid really had a lot of layers to him; depths and secret thoughts that maybe I would never fully understand.

“But I’m not gay.” That statement registered much lower on the shock factor scale. I sensed the denial in his voice.

“I never said you were.” I then decided it was safe to sit down on the bed next to him, but I did so carefully. “Look, you don’t have to be sexually attracted to _anyone_. Just be yourself.”

Elliot nodded, frowning grimly and sort of staring off blankly into space.

“I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable.” I hardly believed the words as they escaped me. Had I seriously just apologized? I checked my forehead for a temperature; no fever. Amazing. This kid was really doing a number on me.

“It’s okay. I’m glad you’re honest with me. That way I know I should stay away from you.”

“Wait, what?” I did a mental double-take as well as a verbal one. What did I say that made him get that idea?

“I’m obviously a temptation for you; I should see if I can work in a different capacity other than dishwashing. I don’t want to be a stumbling block.”

“I….” I was at a loss for words. I had never heard anyone use such crazy logic before. I wisely decided to give both of us time on this. Besides, I was way too tired to argue.

 I put my pajamas on, not caring whether or not Elliot stared at me (which he did not) and plopped myself down onto the bottom bunk of the bed nearest Elliot’s. I was originally going to assert myself as a top bunk sort of guy, but the rickety noises coming from the old wood frames made me nervous, and I opted to sleep on the bottom bed just to be safe.

I fell asleep thinking about Elliot. And I’d be lying if I said I didn’t wake up with a mess in my pants in the morning.

Hot damn. This kid was really getting under my skin.


	3. Snoopy

After the big breakfast rush, I bowed out for a quick break. Sometimes the kitchen life got just a little too chaotic and I needed a moment to re-focus myself so I didn’t end up pissing anyone off. After all, I had to be on my absolute best behavior at this place. One word from Vic and I could be serving six months in juvie instead of five weeks here with Elliot.

I sat at a picnic table right outside the lodge, pencil in hand while I sketched the only thing I could think of at that moment: Elliot’s beautiful, adorable freckled face. It was a little cartoony, but that was about all I knew how to draw. I was never very good at realistic portraits.

I was so absorbed in my drawing that I didn’t notice someone walking up to me.

“Mind if I sit down?”

My head snapped up to see who it was.

Mara.

“What are you doing here? I’m an _adult_ now, you’re not my babysitter anymore.”

“I know. I just came to check on you and see how you’re doing.”

“Isn’t that like, the _definition_ of babysitting?”

“I’m here on my own time.” Mara sat down across from me despite the fact that I never invited her to. “Who are you drawing?”

“Elliot.” I didn’t look at her, just kept adding freckles to the drawing. I would need some colored pencils before this could be finished.

“Is he your boyfriend?”

I paused, wondering how Mara could have known before I realized that she was looking at the little hearts I drew in the space around Elliot’s head. In response to her question, I shrugged and said, “I like him a lot.”

“You realize that this is a Christian camp, right? Heavy Bible thumpers?”

I scoffed at her description only because she was one of them too. “No, really? I had no idea; I guess all the praying and singing Kumbayah around the campfire should have really tipped me off.”

“I meant you should be careful.” Mara tried to look me in the eye, but I didn’t give her the satisfaction. This was none of her business. Why was she here?

“You could get into big trouble if you try starting a relationship while you’re here. I wouldn’t call these people homophobes, but they’re definitely against same-sex dating amongst the workers here. You could end up getting kicked out of here and then you’d be serving your time in juvenile detention or _worse_.”

I nodded, trying not to look as thoroughly warned as I felt. As much as I hated to admit it, she was right. I had to play my cards carefully because if these Bible nuts found out that I was gay, then it could really mean trouble for me.

“Thanks for the advice. Are you gonna leave now? I want to finish this up before I get back to work.” There it was. Just a little bit of my asshole self was showing again. I’d be back to normal in no time.

Mara stood to leave, but before she did, she looked at the drawing again. “I know that kid. His mom and I go to the same church. He lives close by. Once you’re done with all your service hours you should ask him out. See what happens.”

I lost my cool façade again and I was fully aware that my mouth was hanging open as Mara walked away. Did a God fearing, Bible-thumping Christian just tell me to ask Elliot out? Maybe there was a supernatural power out there.

As the phrase goes: Miracles happen every day.

 

“Is it weird that I’m exhausted after just the _first_ round of dishwashing today?”

‘Welcome to day two of Hell Week.” Elliot and I were back in our little sanctuary again, the circle of benches hidden among the pine trees. He was watching a squirrel try to make it back to its home without getting too close to us, and even I laughed at the indecisive, spastic behavior of the little rodent.

“So I talked to Vic.” Elliot began hesitantly. “I told him I was sick of dishwashing, and he said I can work in the kitchen as a cook’s assistant if I want. I’d switch with Patty; she’s a nice lady you’d like her.”

I’d seen Patty, she was the middle aged chatterbox who wouldn’t stop talking about her gout problems while stirring the pasta sauce.

“No thanks.” I dismissed easily. “I think I’d rather do dishes by myself than work with Patty.”

“You can’t do them by yourself. You wouldn’t make it five minutes before you were buried in dirty dishes.”

“Then don’t switch. Come on are you really sick of dishes or are you just doing it to get away from me?”

Elliot went silent and looked away.

“Don’t do this to me, El.” I put my hand on his shoulder, and was happy when he finally turned to look at me. His face contorted in frustration, however, and that part made me not so happy.

“If I stick around with you any longer, we will end up doing things we’ll regret later.”

If that news didn’t go straight to my cock nothing ever would. I crossed my legs, hoping Elliot wouldn’t connect the dots.

“I live my life without regrets.” I informed him. “Life is too short to not have some fun.”

“Is that all it is to you? Fun?”

Clearly I’d said something wrong, and I rewound the tape in my head, analyzing what pissed him off. It took a full second for me to realize that I momentarily forgot to take Elliot’s personality into account when I offered him ‘fun.’

 The offer pissed him off because Elliot wasn’t the kind of guy to just seek out fun. He was a people pleaser; a selfless martyr most of the time. He denied himself fun every day, as proven by his dedication to doing dishes for hundreds of kids every summer for no pay. This was a guy who wanted true love and romance, and although I was sure I’d never make it that far, I could at least pretend, right?

Right….

“I’m sorry.” I said for the second time in my entire life. The second time in two days; this was certainly revealing the pathetic quality of my wooing and seduction techniques.

“I didn’t mean to make it sound so informal.” I licked my dry lips and considered what Mara warned me about not two hours ago. Then I decided to screw it.

“Would you go on a date with me?”

 

 

A week went by without a single word from Elliot.

When I’d asked him out, he just walked away, refusing to look back at me or acknowledge my question.

He’d decided to switch to being a cook’s assistant in the kitchen, and I had to deal with chatty Patty for five whole days before another set of kitchen volunteers came in for the next week-long camp. I only got to see Elliot while I was in the kitchen scarfing down my food in order to make it back to the dish room in time for the big rush. He didn’t look at me, or say anything to me for seven whole days. It broke my heart.

We still slept in the same cabin, although he was already lying in bed fast asleep by the time I got back from cleaning the kitchen. There was another dishwasher this time, a girl named Nancy. She was trouble. Two days working with her at the dishwashing station and she already had a puppy crush on me.

 It’s not that she was unattractive, but she was totally barking up the wrong tree. I did not have even the slightest interest in dating girls, getting to know girls, or even talking with girls. I did my best not to lead her on, but something told me that I was going to need to do more than just the passive-aggressive neglect routine or she would be making a move soon.

 

“Elliot.” I said rather loudly as I trudged into the tiny cabin we had all to ourselves. My feet could hardly lift off the ground as I walked. I was so damn tired and my feet hurt like they’d been dissected and then stitched back together.

“El, wake up.”

“Mmmmphhh.” Elliot murmured into his pillow, still refusing to talk to me. I wasn’t even sure what I wanted to talk to him about. Anything, really. I just wanted to see those pretty eyes and that cute smile.

I called for Elliot one more time, but gave up quickly. If he really didn’t want to talk to me, that was fine by me. I was too tired to think of anything but what my head would feel like on the pillow.

 

I woke up at six o’clock am the next morning, and I cursed when I realized that my alarm wasn’t going to go off for another hour at least. But I was awake. And my cock, hard and throbbing under my boxers, was not going to just let me fall back asleep.

 It wasn’t too uncommon for me to wake up with a morning wood, but it was very unusual for me to wake up _because_ of it, and especially before my own alarm.

 I lay on my back in complete silence, waiting to see if I heard anything from Elliot, whose bed was not even three feet from mine. I thought for sure I was in the clear when suddenly I heard a whimper; a strained, tiny, high-pitched moan that could only mean one of two things: Elliot was either having a bad dream, or a very happy one. Another moment later he elicited another moan, and this one was certainly the good kind of moan.  

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Elliot was practically having a wet dream within arm’s length of me. After contemplating for only three seconds, I quietly slid off my bed and made my way to Elliot’s sleeping form. He was sleeping on the twin sized mattress, and lucky for me he was laying on the far edge, his face almost plastered against the wall. Before my brain could tell me that I was essentially risking my own freedom for an opportunity to be with this boy, I carefully lay down on the mattress behind him, nearly spooning him.

I waited with bated breath to see if he would wake up, and when nothing happened, I scooted forward one more inch, slotting our bodies against each other like we were custom-made to fit.

It felt so good, and my now critical erection was pressing against his slim, almost non-existent ass. Unable to help myself, I pressed a kiss right behind Elliot’s ear, and I breathed in a lungful of his sweet, fruity smelling shampoo. My hand reached around his waist on its own accord, and I was pleased to find his clothed erection tenting the loose flannel pants; he wasn’t wearing any underwear.

 I figured that if I had already gone this far, I might as well go for the gold, right?  My hand carefully slipped under the elastic waistband of Elliot’s pants and immediately gripped the hard cock. I heard a soft gasp come from my sleeping beauty. His hips bucked instinctively, which in turn made the erection thrust in and out of my fist.

And although my imagination pictured a smaller cock based on Elliot’s bordering-on-malnutrition body structure, his cock was decently sized, about five inches in length and slender, like everything else about him. Careful as to not wake him, I stroked Elliot’s cock gently and continuously, earning delicious moans and whimpers while he slept peacefully.

“Mmmm…. Mick….” Elliot’s coherent mention of my name made me freeze for a moment. Did he wake up? Was he aware that I was doing this to him? I leaned over him a little just so I could see his face, but the shift in weight made the mattress sink in drastically, and I knew I’d made a big mistake. Sure enough, Elliot’s eyes flew open, and instantly his blue-green eyes bored into my light blue ones. I had merely half a second to think, so I didn’t; I just took action. I pressed my lips against his in a quick, dry kiss while I resumed my stroking on his cock. If my instincts were right, then poor, inexperienced Elliot would just get lost in the pleasure of the handjob and forget all about being upset. At least for now.

And it seemed to work. Elliot rolled onto his back, his eyes half closed and his mouth open in a continual, lusty pant.

I didn’t dare say a word, afraid to break the beautiful spell he was under. I was practically laying on top of him, jerking him softly but swiftly inside the privacy of his baggy flannels. I ignored my own erection for the time being, focused only on bringing Elliot to know the exquisite pleasure that comes with someone else giving you a climax.

Elliot moaned loudly, and I quickly shushed him. The walls were far too thin for pornographic moans like that. “Shhh…It’s okay, I’ll take care of you.” The nodded response I got from him encouraged me to take this further. Without any warning, I moved off of Elliot’s slim body and headed downwards. I slid the loose waistband past his thighs and took the tip of his erect cock into my mouth.

I’d never done this before, but I couldn’t let Elliot know that. He tasted to good. I could tell he showered the night before; I tasted traces of soap on his skin right along with the salty, delicious slick that seeped continuously from his slit.

The noises; oh the _noises_ that boy made. He tried to contain himself when I took his whole cock in my mouth with very little difficulty, but there was no hiding those soft, high-pitched whimpers of arousal and pleasure.

As for me, I decided right away that I loved sucking Elliot’s cock. It was smooth and hard, and not too big so that it would gag me, but big enough to make me feel like I could really please him; wrap my tongue around his shaft while I sucked hard and fast.

“Mickael!” Every syllable of my name, the “Mick” the “ay” and the “el,” left his lips like a begging prayer, and it brought me closer to orgasm than I have ever been while completely untouched.

I knew he was close, and instead of pulling off like most manly gays might, I sucked even harder, doubling my efforts to shove him off the cliff into euphoria and determined to swallow his load.

“Ahhh!” Elliot outright yelled when his orgasm hit him, and it turned me on so much that I didn’t even care that it was way too loud.

 I was rewarded with his ejaculate filling my mouth, coating my tongue so that I could taste him. It was a little sour, a little bitter, and tasted much like you would expect bodily fluids to taste, but it wasn’t bad. The erotic nature of him ejaculating in my mouth because of the pleasure I gave him made me more aroused than the taste itself, and I figured that was normal.

I pulled off his cock when I knew he was finished, and I looked up to see Elliot looking down at me, panting and still floating in a euphoric haze.

I decided this was the best time for what I wanted to do. I crawled back up Elliot’s scrawny frame, positioning myself so my lips hovered right above his. I paused for a second, giving him time to object if that’s what he wanted, but seeing no refusal in his eyes I closed the space between us and kissed him. I kissed him good and deep, slow and meaningful.

I was thoroughly surprised when I felt a hand grip my aching cock through my boxers, and I made sure to tell him how much I liked it with a low growl into his mouth.

I was just about to set my aching cock free from its textile confines when a noise made me freeze.

A knock on the door. Someone was knocking on the cabin door.

“Elliot? You in there?”

“Shit!” I hissed as I practically vaulted myself off of Elliot and ended up landing on the floor head first. The rough hardwood floor scraped against my forehead, and I could only imagine the kind of commotion my tumble had caused.

“Are you okay?” The voice called through the wood door.

“I’m fine!” Elliot yanked his flannel pants into place and uselessly pawed at his tangled hair in an effort to straighten himself out. Without a single glance in my direction Elliot opened the door to reveal Peter, the groundskeeper.

Peter instantly peered around Elliot and straight to me, the half-naked guy on the floor with blood seeping from a big scrape on his forehead.  “What’s going on in here?”


	4. People

Elliot paled. I could see it even from the weird angle caused by my sprawled position.

He stuttered and stammered for a full ten seconds before finally saying, “Mick fell off the top bunk.”

I mentally face-palmed upon hearing Elliot’s God-awful lying skills. I supposed I should admire that quality in him, but at the moment it was the most useless thing on the planet.

Peter looked thoroughly unconvinced, but he really didn’t have any proof to believe anything different. I could practically see his wheels turning in his head as he thought of what to do.

“Right…” He finally said. His eyes flashed from me to Elliot, and then back to me again. I’d pried myself off the floor by this time, and I instinctively reached for the nearest pair of jeans.

“I was just stopping by to see if you boys would mind helping me with a yardwork project tomorrow, starting right after breakfast. Vic told me you could have the whole day off of dishes so that frees up your schedule.”

Elliot nodded way too quickly. Damn, this kid was so bad at keeping a secret it wasn’t even funny.

“Sure, we’ll help.”

Peter thanked us and left, still holding a suspicious and wary look in his eye as he did.

Elliot closed the wooden door slowly, his forehead resting against it in an anguished posture. He stood that way for a good long while, his eyes closed while he was obviously thinking, or praying, or both.

I just waited in silence, completely unaware of what he would say or do next.

“Shit.” The first time I’d ever heard him swear. “This is all my fault.”

I should not have been shocked. This was hardly the first time that Elliot tried to blame himself for something that was all on me. But I was still speechless. I had no idea what to say, except for, “How the hell is this your fault?”

Elliot finally lifted his head off the door and looked at me. He looked so guilty and confused. It hurt to see him like that. “It was wrong, Mick. What we did just now, was _wrong_.”

I looked to the floor and bit my tongue. I wanted so badly to go off on him; to tell him what’s-what and make him admit he was gay. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t do that to him. Elliot had to figure that shit out on his own. I was just a bystander; a horny, blue-balled, put-out bystander.

“What are you going to do?” I asked quietly. I was completely resigned to the fact that Elliot might tell someone about what happened; that he might ‘repent of his sins’ and that in turn would blow my chances of staying out of prison.

But Elliot sounded compassionate as he said, “For now?... Nothing. But if you touch me again, I’m going to tell Vic everything.”

 

So that was it. The ultimatum. It broke my heart to see the denial and self-hate going on in his heart and mind. It hurt just as much to think that maybe I was wrong; perhaps no amount of seduction could undo the deep-seated indoctrination and brainwashing he grew up with.

 

 

That night I returned to a completely empty cabin. Elliot’s belongings were all cleared out. I somehow resisted the tears that sprung to my eyes as I thought of how badly I’d fucked things up with Elliot. Had I said too much? Not enough? Was it a mistake to make a move on him? I wasn’t sure. I fell asleep on Elliot’s old bed. I thought I smelled traces of his fruity shampoo on the mattress, and I slept without a pillow so I could smell it continually throughout the night.

Not once did I realize that I was being a girly sap; nothing like my normal self. I never thought to admit that Elliot was changing me. And he was. Elliot was making me fall truly in love.

 

Peter seemed to keep a lid on what he heard and saw the day before, as evidenced by the fact that I was still on campus. I hadn’t been approached by any higher-ups, and everyone seemed to still act the same around me.

Apparently the ‘yardwork’ Peter had planned for us was really roof work. Elliot and I were both eighteen, and therefore legally able to work on the roof. We were assigned the task of cleaning out all the gutters that ran along the entire main lodge. I was more than okay with it, since it meant that Elliot and I got to spend time together. Elliot did not seem so thrilled, however. He was terrified of heights.

 

“Are you sure you’re holding it tight enough?” Elliot looked down at me with an uneasy expression.

“The ladder’s not going anywhere El, I _promise_.” I clung to the ladder with all my might, trying to get it to stop wobbling from Elliot’s petrified quaking.

He eventually made it to the top, and I amusedly imagined him clinging to the almost completely flat roof with all four limbs. I bounded up the ladder after him, taking the mere ten-foot journey with ease.

I met Elliot at the top, and smiled at him.

He scowled at me, looking jealous of my confidence with heights. “Are you not afraid of _anything_?” He shakily got to his feet, as though the sturdy roof might collapse under him at any moment.

“I’m afraid of losing _you_.” I confessed quietly, just loud enough for only my friend to hear.

The comment made Elliot blush and he turned away, a cold expression darkening his features. He walked towards the empty buckets that were waiting for us and said, “We’d better get started, Mick.”

 

And boy, did we ever. We worked and worked until we’d filled ten five-gallon buckets full of leaves, twigs, and mud. Our work gloves were covered in muck and once we finished I flung a sopping wet leather glove in Elliot’s direction. The cold, wet leather hit the back of his neck, and I watched as his shoulder’s bunched up in a cringe. He took off one of his own gloves and turned towards me, a playfully murderous look on his face.

“Two can play at this game, Mick.”

I laughed mockingly. I knew that he would never give chase because of how uneasy he was on the roof, so I quickly made my way down the ladder to escape his retaliation. It was a big mistake. The moment I hit the ground I realized that Elliot literally had the upper hand now.

I looked up to the roof and was horrified when I saw Elliot take a huge handful of rain-gutter junk and drop it; right in my face.

 

After wiping the majority of the moldy, wet leaves from my face I scowled at Elliot, who only laughed in response. I couldn’t help but smile too.

Nothing was actually said, but in a way I could sense that he’d forgiven me; that he was ready to put the past behind him. After I wiped the rest of the crud off my face I heard his jovial voice from above, “Are you gonna help me get these buckets down or what?”

 

 

The huge group of ninety-eight campers were leaving to go home, and the parking lot was packed full of minivans; parents coming to bring their kids home from a week of playing, singing, and eating tons of food. I was glad to see the huge group of kids go, and Elliot and I watched the cars leave one by one while we sat around a small campfire. It was just getting dark, and Elliot and I were sitting close – dangerously close – on one of the many wooden benches surrounding the fire circle.

“So I’ve got like, twenty-six more days here.” I said with a bitter-sweet tone. It sounded like so little time, but if me and Elliot were going to keep up this charade, it would feel like forever.

“Yeah? I leave in just over a week.”

“What?” I tried to keep the heartbreak out of my voice, but I just couldn’t.

“Yeah, I think I need to get out of here. It’s just getting too… _weird_ , you know?”

“Okay.” I bit back some tears, not allowing them to fall from my eyes. I wasn’t going to be that guy. I wasn’t going to be that emotionally clingy, needy sap who needed love. Because I didn’t need love, right? I didn’t need Elliot.

He obviously didn’t need me. He had Jesus.

 

“I hope we can still be friends, Mick.” He was looking directly at me; I could feel his gaze boring a hole in the side of my head.

I nodded, and wiped my nose roughly with the back of my hand, trying to pretend that they weren’t the redirected tears I’d blinked away.

I felt hurt. I couldn’t deny that feeling as much as I tried. And as my brilliant, genius, and mature self, I did what I normally did when I felt hurt. I looked at Elliot; I looked him right in the face and said:

“You let me know when you’re ready to tell people you’re a fucking faggot, alright?”

Retaliation was my fucking specialty.

 

 

Needless to say, Elliot didn’t talk to me again. I pretended not to care about that. I also pretended not to care that I was sleeping alone in the cabin every night.

I had twenty more days left of community service, and by now I was a fucking pro. Vic had trouble coming up with things for me to do after the dishes were done in record time every day. He ended up just letting me take breaks instead of keep working; the kitchen was fucking spotless and I had three hours to spare before dinner time.

 

“Hey Mick, can I ask you a question?” Vic leaned back in his office chair, trying to look all casual and nonchalant.

“You’re the boss, you tell me.” I managed to be just a little bit of an asshole to Vic every once in a while, and he didn’t seem to care.

“Did something happen between you and Elliot?”

I gulped, and I’m sure I went pale. “ _Something_ …?” I tried to get him to specify.

“Yeah. Peter told me it looked like you two got into a fight last week. He said he walked in on you two; you were on the floor with a cut on your head.

I tried to hold back my sigh of relief, but failed miserably. “Oh, yeah. Our _fight_ …” _So Peter thought it was a fight?_ I thanked the God I wasn’t so sure I believed in. “It was nothing. Just too much testosterone for one cabin, I guess.” I laughed nervously, but at least I could lie better than Elliot.

“Is that why he isn’t staying in your cabin anymore?” Vic pried.

“Yeah, I didn’t grow up with siblings. I’m not used to sharing anything.”

“Right…” Vic sounded about as convinced as Peter had the week before. “So it has nothing to do with you being gay?”

 

I was stunned. Completely, unequivocally, totally stunned. My mouth was undoubtedly hanging open.

“How…” I began but could not finish.

“Your social worker, Mara, told me. She told me as a warning; so I could make sure you didn’t cause any unwanted drama amongst any of our male volunteers.”

I was still in shock, but not too much to not be offended. “Right. Because _we’re_ all queens of _drama_ , right?”

Vic shrugged. “Look, I’m not homophobic or anything, okay? I have a cousin who’s gay.”

I rolled my eyes at that comment, but let him continue.

“I have a feeling that you and Elliot fighting had something to do with your…. _lifestyle_ … Am I right?”

“Is it really any of your business?”

Vic sighed, clearly not wanting to be the bad guy. “I’m sorry, but if anything happened between you two, I have to report it to the director. It’s policy. It’s not just you, it’s even with guys and gals.”

“Nothing happened.” I effectively lied this time.

Vic nodded, and reluctantly said, “Is Elliot going to tell me the same thing?”

 

 

It’s not like I really cared that I’d been outed. My sexuality was never really a secret. But I cared whether or not I’d be spending half a year in a state penitentiary. That really mattered to me. My hands were sweating with anxiety as I waited to see Elliot leave Vic’s office. I had no idea what he would say, but I told Vic that Elliot would confirm my statement that nothing had happened. (Confirm my _lie_ , that is.)

And of course I lied. I had to. I hoped to heaven and hell and back again that Elliot would understand that.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Elliot walked out. I immediately approached him, but he turned away from me coldly.

“Don’t do this to me, Elliot.” I whispered, not wanting anyone to overhear us in the small corridor. “Please say something.”

Elliot looked at me, but just for a second as he said, “I covered your ass, Mick. Don’t make me do it again.”

And with that, he was gone. Gone from the building; gone from the camp; gone from my life.

 

I never thought I would admit it to myself, but I did:

My life had never felt so empty.

 


	5. Sick

Ten days went by without much event. Dishes were always followed by more dishes, and I spent my spare time drawing and reading outside on the picnic tables. I’d gotten a new dishwashing partner and roomie. His name was Doug. A nice enough guy, but he really reminded me of a golden retriever; eager to please and not a whole lot going on upstairs. He had absolutely no regard for personal hygiene either, and it took only two days before our cabin stunk like cat piss.

For some strange reason, I put up with it. I never complained, or chewed Doug out for being such a smelly slob. I had no fight in me. Elliot leaving broke my spirit. Right now I was just trying to finish my community service hours and get the hell outta dodge.

 

To my surprise, that was going to be a lot sooner than I originally thought.

 

 

“Hey Mick, can I see you in my office when you’re done?” Vic approached me at the dishwashing station right in the middle of the lunch rush.

 “Yeah, sure.” I hardly registered what he said while I was frantically trying to keep up with all the plates and bowls piling up in the receiving window.

It didn’t sink in until later that Vic wanted to talk to me about something; and I had no idea what that something might be.

As I cleaned up the stainless steel countertops and swept the floor I wracked my brain thinking about what on earth it could be. I hadn’t broken any more rules that I knew of… Had he figured out about my bordering-on-pornographic drawings in my sketchbook? The thought of anyone snooping in my private sketchbook made a knot form in my stomach.

But ultimately, I decided that the best way to stay out of trouble would be to just bite the bullet and get it over with. I had to go talk to Vic.

 

“Hey, thanks for cleaning up the kitchen. You’re the best dishwasher I’ve had in years.”

“Thanks….” I was taken aback at the cheery gratitude, but pleasantly so.

“That’s why I hate to see you go.”

“Go? I have like a week left, right?” I mentally began doing the math; it told me that I had ten days left to go.

“Well it was an estimation based on the two-hundred hours you were supposed to serve, assuming that you’d be working only eight hour days. But you’ve been working a lot more than that; twelve to sixteen hours sometimes. I added it up; you’re all set to go. Your punishment is lifted.”

He reached into a desk drawer and pulled out the keys to my old Chrysler convertible, then tossed them onto my lap casually.

I sat there, utterly speechless, and more than a little grateful.

“So how does it feel to be a free man?” Vic leaned back in his chair casually.

I shook my head in disbelief, feeling free as a bird and yet still not believing it. “So I’m really done?”

“Yep. I just have some papers to fill out and send to the courthouse, but you’re done. So, what do you want to do with your first free day?”

I wanted to say something like, ‘get the hell out of here and never come back.’ But I didn’t. Despite the fact that Vic was a religious nut, he’d been good to me, and more than fair. So instead of telling him that I would rather eat rocks than ever see him again, I said, “I think I’m going to go talk to Elliot. Thanks for everything, Vic.”

And with that, I was gone.

 

It was easy to find out where Elliot lived. Over the course of our time together, I’d figured out that his last name was Johnson. Using a local phonebook, I found an address that was closest to the camp and the church I knew his family attended. The household of Richard and Adelaide Johnson was located at 1457 Lincoln Ave. Only two short miles from the camp.

 I gathered my stuff together and hopped into my old, beat-up 90’s convertible that I hadn’t been able to drive for almost a month. I just couldn’t wait to get the top down and go fifty-five on the highway.

I freakin’ loved summer.

 

 

The Johnson’s home was a big white house surrounded by a big lawn and had a swing set and sandbox in the back. Four kid-size bikes were propped up against the siding on the house, and it made me remember that Elliot told me he had lots of younger siblings. I braced myself for the possible onslaught of ankle-biters as I knocked on the side door.

Instead of a mass of kids running to the door, ankle-biters of a different variety greeted me: two Chihuahuas. They did not seem very friendly.

“Kudo, Chip-Chip, get out of the way!” A woman scolded the yipping dogs and stepped right over them to get to the door. “Hi, sorry. We’re dog sitting. Can I help you?” The woman looked like she might be forty, and I assumed she must have been Elliot’s mom.

“I’m looking for Elliot? Is he home?”

“Elliot!!!” The woman threw her head back and yelled without any preamble or regard for my eardrums.  

Ten seconds elapsed before I saw Elliot walk into view, and upon seeing me his face went from blank to confused in an instant.

“Mick?” He approached the screen door cautiously, as if I was a tiger that might pounce at the bars of a cage.

“Hey.” Was all I could think to say with Mrs. Johnson standing right there.

“Oops. I’ve got cookies in the oven,” As if on cue, Elliot’s mom bowed out of the way, leaving us alone, but not exactly together.

“Aren’t you gonna let me in?” I asked with a small smile.

Elliot did not return my smile. In fact, he looked upset. “Not until you tell me why you’ve showed up at my house.”

“To talk to you. I thought it was obvious.”

“Are you here to apologize?” Elliot crossed his arms defensively.

My mind thought back to what I’d said to him _. “Let me know when you’re ready to tell people you’re a fucking faggot.”_ I cringed just thinking about it.

“I’m here to make things right.”

Elliot thought for a while, still frowning, before finally relenting and opening the door.

“Just don’t get comfy, okay?”

 

 

I sat on Elliot’s bean bag chair in his room, feeling very comfy indeed. We sat in relative silence for a while, eating fresh oatmeal-raisin cookies his mom just made.

“Your mom really knows how to bake cookies.” I broke the ice a little, hoping to eventually get around to why I really came here. Elliot did not respond to my attempt at small talk, so I said, “How have you been doing?”

“Fine.”

“Where are all your siblings?”

“At camp.”

“Oh.”

“Why aren’t _you_ there?”

“I got done with my hours. I’m a free man now.”

“Good for you.” Elliot refused to look at me. He just stared at the off-white carpet while he sat on his bed.

“I’m looking into getting a job.”

“Yeah? And who’s going to hire a high school dropout?”

My pride stung a little at his comment, but I could tell that he was just hurt; he was harboring anger towards me for the horrible way I treated him over the summer.

“Look, Elliot. I’m sorry for what I said to you. I shouldn’t have called you a…. _you know_.”

“What? A faggot?” Elliot finally made eye contact with me, and I could see the anger and hurt in his eyes.

“Yes.” I said quietly. “I should have never called you that. I was just upset that you were leaving.”

“And apparently you _still_ didn’t get the message, Mick. I left because I don’t want to see you. I want to be away from you. You are bringing out the worst in me; lustful thoughts and actions that are _wrong_. It's _sin_. Do you understand what I'm saying?”

I was again at a loss for words. I was hoping I could go for the ' _but didn't it feel good?'_ angle, but that would obviously not work at this point. Elliot knew it felt good, but he was making the argument that pleasure was wrong; that what we did two weeks ago was wrong.

"I'm sorry, Elliot." The third time now. Damn, this was not going well for me. Maybe I should just quit this whole endeavor before I lost count of apologies. There were plenty of fish out there, right? Plenty of young pretty twinks who don't have moral conflicts about blowjobs.

But there was only one Elliot. And I was getting more and more convinced that I was actually in _love_ with this boy; not just in lust.

 

“I love you, Elliot.” A tear spontaneously sprung from my eye and landed on the floor below me, completely unbidden. I didn’t care what Elliot would say next. I just had to tell him the truth. “I’ve never been in love, El. And I know it makes no sense. You’re probably not even attracted to me and here I am, crying in your bedroom, practically begging you to give me a chance. Do you have any idea how much you have wrecked me; changed me into something I don’t even recognize anymore?”

Elliot’s breath hitched and I noticed that he’d started crying too. His tears fell so freely on his beautiful face, and he still looked like an angel. I, on the other hand, was such an ugly crier. It was more than a little embarrassing to be crying like this in front of Elliot. But it felt good to get all of it off my chest.

“I know you think this is wrong, Elliot. But I want you to just give me a chance to show you that it’s not; that it can’t be wrong. Falling in love with you is the best thing that ever happened to me. Can you really still tell me that my love for you is a sin?”

Elliot sniffed and wiped his nose with a tissue he got from his computer desk. He handed me a couple as well and I thanked him. We said nothing for a while, but I was okay with that. I was so grateful to have spoken my peace.

Eventually, my friend spoke. “Mick, I have to tell you something.”

“Yes?”

“I’m going away for a while. It’s… to a hospital, of sorts. They have a program that’s supposed to help people like me, who… aren’t attracted to _girls_ …”

My brain short-circuited and I swear half my face did a twitch. “What the fuck?” The curse left my lips without permission, and so did the following shock-driven litany. “Are you talking about gay conversion therapy, El? _Christ_ fuck, those people are a bunch of sadistic crazies who get their rocks off by sticking electrodes up your penis and making you watch porn!”

Elliot visibly paled upon hearing my outburst, and it looked for half a second like he might have been reconsidering. “They don’t do that stuff anymore, Mick.” He squeaked.

“Not the first week. If they can’t ‘convert’ you with the praying and meditating they move on to the penis lightning.” I’d watched a documentary about lunatics like this, so it obviously made me an expert.

Elliot shook his head. “Look, I’m going voluntarily, okay? It’s only for two weeks, but I can leave whenever I want.”

“Why would you even want to go to a place like that?” My heart hurt, and it felt like I might cry again.

“I’m sick, Mickael. You are too, but what you do about it is your decision; it’s your life. I’m going somewhere to get better so I can be with Lexi.”

I scoffed aloud, not even attempting to mask my being offended at Elliot’s judgment. Did he seriously just say that I was sick? Did he just toss away my love confession like it was trash and tell me he wanted to be with a girl?

But worse than the hurt he’d just caused me, I was worried about Elliot’s future. He was denying his true self and taking serious steps to try to be something he was not. He was about to subject himself to the most concentrated dose of spiritual hoo-ha brainwashing available to mankind.

And I worried for him. I was worried for my angel.


	6. Patient

So this is what rejection felt like. I had never been rejected until this point. If I wanted a guy, I got him. I’d never dated anyone religious before. Come to think of it though, I had never really _dated_ anyone at all.

I'd hooked up with lots of guys, sure. But I'd never been out on a date, or talked about emotions and shit, or hung around for that whole "Netflix and Chill" thing. Elliot would be my first boyfriend. I just had to undo 18 years of religious indoctrination first, which was already proving to be the hardest fucking thing I’d ever done.

The next day I woke up to a completely empty apartment. My mom worked a lot and I hardly ever saw her. The night before I was so emotionally exhausted from my argument with Elliot that I wasn’t even in the mood to jerk off, despite the fact that it had been weeks since I’d done it. I had gone to sleep with a limp dick and glassy eyes. No, I did not cry. Mickael Smith did not fucking cry himself to sleep over boys. Just... only for half a minute or so.

 But now it was morning. A new day, and I was a free man. That meant I could do whatever the fuck I wanted.

The first order of business was to rub one out, since now I had complete privacy and there was no danger of being overheard. My cock was already getting hard just thinking about it. I used some warming lubricant to start, and it took only a few strokes with my hand to bring me to complete hardness.

I shamelessly thought of Elliot while I fucked into my slick hand. I thought of kissing that sweet mouth; I thought about fucking his impossibly tiny ass until he couldn’t take it anymore. I imagined what his tiny hole would look like stretched around my big cock. The physical proportions were possibly slightly exaggerated in the fantasy playing out in my head, but I didn’t care. I just wanted to come. I just wanted Elliot. I just wanted him to love me.

Before I could let my heartache kill the mood, my orgasm washed over me like a pleasure tidal wave, sweeping me away to heaven for a full ten seconds, before slowly letting me float back down. Down to reality. Down to the reality where Elliot hated me and would never let me fuck him if I was the last person on earth.

 

I seriously wondered if I should just try to get over him. It may have been the logical thing to do. But to hell with logic. Logic could go fuck a duck for all I cared. I was in love. And I was going to win Elliot over if it was the last thing I ever did.

 

 

It took me ten days to find out where Elliot had gone off to. After lots of google searching and a couple of carefully worded phone calls to Elliot’s family, I finally narrowed down all the possibilities to just one. It was a remotely located church-run institute about a three hour’s drive from where I lived. I ‘borrowed’ some money from the cookie jar for some gas, leaving an IOU note that I would probably never replace with real money.

_GPS, don’t fail me now…_

 

The institute was exactly as the website advertised and everything I expected: clean, beautiful, and run by assholes. “Christ’s Enlightenment Institute. Could you get any more pretentious?” I scoffed as I parked my car in the nearly-empty lot.

 Once inside the huge facility, I easily found a visitor’s desk and signed in with the help of an old hag named Hilda. She gave me a nametag sticker and escorted me excruciatingly slowly down a long corridor to the commons room.

 

The unoccupied commons room was just like everything else there: tidy, spacious, and sterile. The barred windows and ping-pong tables officially tipped me off that this was not just an institute, but an _institution_. I seriously questioned whether or not Elliot would really be in a place like this on his own free will.

Old woman Hilda left me, in order to find Elliot, and seemingly an hour later she came back with him in tow.

Elliot looked terrible. He’d only been gone for ten days, but he’d obviously lost weight and looked even more dangerously thin than usual. His eyes were dim, and he looked like he hardly recognized me when his gaze met mine. Hilda left the room, but I assumed she was either supervising close by or that we were being watched with cameras. If these people were anything, they weren’t amateurs.

 

“Elliot…” I tried to get some kind of recognition from my poor, miserable-looking angel. He just stared off somewhere to my left, not really looking at anything.

“You look awful. Here, sit down.” I guided him to a folding chair, and he sat down slowly, and carefully, as if he were afraid the chair might fall from under him. I sat in the chair right next to him, and kept my hand on his arm, which felt like nothing but a bone covered by a thin layer of skin.

“God, what have they done to you? You look…. You don’t even look like yourself, El.”

Elliot nodded, and my heart leapt at the sudden response. Any response was good.

“Can you look at me? Please look at me.”

Elliot turned his gaunt face towards me, and it broke my heart to see the lines and creases on his freckled face. It was like he had aged two decades in just over a week.

“I’ve missed you.” I spoke despite the tears gathering in my eyes.

Elliot looked away, and I saw him bite his lip. “You’re not supposed to be here.” He finally whispered. It was almost too quiet for me to hear, and I wished I hadn’t.

“I had to see you Elliot. I’ve been worried about you. Hell, are they even _feeding_ you here?” My tears vanished, my emotions turning into indignation and worry.

“I’ve been fasting and praying. You wouldn’t understand.”

“I would if you told me.” I put my hand on his, trying to convey the love I felt for him without actually saying it. “Are they _making_ you do this fasting thing?”

“No, Mick. It’s my own choice.” Elliot kept his voice at a whisper, and it was just then I realized that perhaps he wasn’t even able to raise his voice if he wanted to; maybe he was so under-nourished that he couldn’t talk properly.

“How long, El?”

“Eight days.”

“Christ.” My heart went up into my throat and stayed there for a few beats. “Elliot, you’ve got to stop. You’re starving; you’re deathly skinny. Any more of this and there will be nothing left of you. I’m about to take you to an ER as it is.”

Elliot nodded. “I know; and I’ll have dinner tonight. Don’t worry about me.”

“Too late for that. My worry meter is already maxed out. And it’s not going to get any better until you leave here.”

Elliot gave me a full second of eye contact before looking away again with a frown.  “I can’t see you anymore, Mick. I don’t know how many times I have to tell you that.”

“Just a few more times. I’m a slow learner.”

A slightly amused smile tugged at his dry lips for just an instant, and then it was gone.

After that I knew our visit was over. Hilda returned to escort me to the exit, and Elliot ignored me as I left.

I took a long look at the back of his shaggy-haired head as I was basically pulled out of that God-awful place. I held back an ‘I love you’ that threatened to make its way out of my throat. It was probably for the best that I didn’t say it.

It was probably for the best that I just stay away from Elliot.

But as I said…. I’m a slow learner.

Despite my desire to bust Elliot out of that institution and burn it to the ground, I decided that the best course of action was to wait. So I waited. For four fucking days. I sat on my hands at home for four days, killing the itch inside to just drive up to see him again. I worried for him. I worried deeply. I worried that he would never be the same Elliot after two weeks in Hell. I worried that he may never love me.

 

 

“I’m sorry, Michael…”

“It’s Mickael.” I corrected for the millionth time in my life. _Thank you, mother._

“Okay, _Mick-ay-el_.” Mrs. Johnson looked lightly annoyed by my reoccurring presence at her doorstep. “Elliot told me that if you stopped by I’m not supposed to let you see him.”

I was just about to say something real cunning and ass-hole-like, when I heard a familiar voice come from somewhere close by, “It’s okay, mom. You can let him in.”

Then I saw him. Poor, gaunt, miserable looking Elliot sauntered into view and it broke my heart to see him like this.

Mrs. Johnson reluctantly let me in, and I followed Elliot as he walked to his room.

 

 I was getting a little bit of déjà vu mixed in with my nostalgia. I was back in the bean bag chair, and he was sitting on his bed. the only difference was that this time he was at least ten pounds lighter and my aching heart had picked up that weight at least tenfold.

We sat in a stiff, awkward silence for a while. Minutes ticked by. Surprisingly, Elliot spoke first.

“You can’t keep coming here, Mick.”

“Then meet me somewhere else.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Elliot said in low voice. I knew that wasn’t what he meant. I just wasn’t ready to admit defeat just yet.

“You can’t just push me away, Elliot. I get it; you see me as a problem. But what happens the next time you meet a guy you’re attracted to? Are you going to push them away too? What if it’s a boss, or a coworker? You can’t just _leave,_ then.”

“What’s your point?” He looked at me with a glare that was filled with a mixture of frustration and self-loathing.

“My point is, you can’t just run away from this thing, El. You can’t just _pretend_ to be straight your whole life.”

“This is none of your business.” Elliot quipped defensively. “What I do with my life is none of your concern. What _you_ should do is _move on_ , Mick. Find some other poor, inexperienced, closeted gay to mess with, okay?”

My mouth suddenly went dry upon hearing Elliot’s rant. Is that what he thought he was to me? Just another notch on my bedpost? He didn’t believe that I could love him; that I truly did love him and that’s why I was doing this.

“I love you, Elliot.” I said quietly.

Elliot’s expression turned from irritated to sympathetic, but it was hardly an improvement. His voice was soft. “You’re sick, Mickael. You need help. You don’t love me, not really…. And… yes, you’re right, I will probably have to deal with my demons for the rest of my life, but I’m willing to do that. I have a girlfriend now, and I think I’m going to eventually marry her. I’m going to be happy with my life. And it’s time you left me alone to live my life the way I want.”

I nodded, although I didn’t agree in the slightest. I was angry. I was hurt. I was confused. I felt every negative emotion all at once. After I got a hold of myself, I asked, “Do you really never want to see me again?” My hands were shaking from all the emotions coursing through me, and a cold sweat caused me to rub my hands on my jeans.

Elliot looked remorseful. “I think it would be best, Mick.  I mean, I would love it if you came to church, or if I saw you at camp again, but I shouldn’t be alone with you anymore.”

My mind balked at the idea of going to either church or that summer camp, but if it meant I got to see Elliot again…

“Well… I guess this is it, then.” My voice cracked badly, and my knees felt weak as I stood to leave.

Elliot stayed seated on his bed, and I approached him slowly, being ever so careful not to set off any personal-space alarms. He looked up at me; I was a few inches above him in this position, and I saw a searching look in his eye.

“Do I get a kiss goodbye?” I whispered, my voice almost pleading.

Elliot’s eyes went wide, and he looked away for a brief moment. I saw his head nod in response, but he still didn’t look at me.

So I took matters into my own hands. I gently reached for his chin, and guided it toward me, so I could look into those beautiful sapphire eyes. Before he could change his mind, I close the gap between us, pressing my lips to his in a soft kiss.

Instantly, I felt him melt under my touch. It was like a dam broke; the last of his resolve. He kissed me back. It was slow, and unpracticed, and the best goddamn thing I ever felt in my life. It took me a second to realize that this was supposed to be it; this was supposed to be our goodbye. But the way Elliot responded to my kiss resurrected my dead and gone hope, and it was now alive and well again.

I kissed him again, good and deep and I felt a moan build up in Elliot’s throat. My hands were in his soft, tousled hair, ever so delicately; I was deathly afraid of breaking this spell. Nothing else existed. The whole world melted away and all that remained was me and Elliot making out like we were star-crossed lovers, born to be together but living in two different worlds, making it impossible to do so.

The kiss slowed; I knew that if we kept going I was probably going to jizz in my pants. Our lips were still connected, but not moving. I gave him one last little kiss, dragging his bottom lip between my teeth for half a second before letting it go.

I was about to pull back when suddenly I heard a voice behind me,

 

“What the _hell_?”


	7. Spontaneous

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Explicit sexual content caution. Let the smut begin...

I didn’t even have time to turn around to see who walked in on us. White-hot pain coursed through my head and neck as I felt a hand grab my hair. It yanked my head back with such force that somewhere in the back of my mind I thought that my neck might break.

The very strong man pulled my entire body backwards by my hair and flung me towards to floor, consequently making my head hit a wall; hard. My vision blacked out for a second, and I swear my eyeballs rolled around uncontrollably for a little while as I lay there, trying to catch up to what was going on.

“Dad-” Elliot barely had time to squeak out before he too was grabbed by the hair roughly, though not as roughly as I was handled. Elliot whimpered as his irate, red-faced father seethed, “Do you have any idea what you just did? You have committed an abominable sin! It’s disgusting; it’s wrong!”

“I’m sorry.” Elliot was already sobbing as his hands grappled against the grip tugging his hair. “It wasn’t my choice!”

Those four words made my heart stop. Those four words made Mr. Johnson’s head snap around to look at me. Those four words made it look like someone was about to get murdered.

And that someone was me.

 

“You have three seconds, boy.” The man had let go of Elliot’s hair, and took a step towards me.

I tried to scramble to my feet, but the intense pain in my neck made my extremities feel numb, and almost nonexistent. I fell to the floor on the first try, but my instincts took over on the second.

Without a single glance backwards, I ran so fast I practically flew, out of the bedroom, down the stairs, and out the door. I slowed once I got to the peaceful quiet of the outdoors, the fresh summer air giving me oxygen to breathe. But suddenly it felt like there wasn’t enough oxygen in the air. I was breathing, but it still felt like I was suffocating…

A panic attack. I was having a frickin’ panic attack. I hadn’t had one in years. I instinctively felt around in my pockets for a small packet of pills I used to carry with me, but didn’t anymore. My chest felt tight as a drum and no matter what I did I just couldn’t get myself to breathe evenly. My vision started to blur and I used what little I had left of my logical thinking to sit down on the grass carefully before the world around me faded to black.

 

I had no idea how long I was out, but it couldn’t have been very long, since no one had found me yet. I was still in the Johnson’s yard, right next to their side door. The first thing I noticed was the banging pain in my head, and the excruciatingly sharp pain in my neck. It felt like Elliot’s dad may have seriously injured me. I would probably have to go to a doctor about it since I couldn’t even turn my head without feeling like the bones in my spine were grinding together like nails on a chalkboard.

Loud shouts were coming from the house. Although I couldn’t hear exact words, Mr. and Mrs. Johnson were no doubt having a row over me and their gay son.

It was a damn shame that Richard had to walk in when he did. If he hadn’t, Elliot and I could have mended things. We could have patched things up between us and maybe gone on to date; in secret if need be, just as long as I got to be with him. But now my chances were completely blown.

I was so fucked.

 

I got home around dinner time and was really surprised to find my mom there. I was even more surprised to see that she had made dinner.

“We need to talk.” Her first words to me in like, I don’t know, a month? I’d seen her around since I got myself into trouble with the cops, but she hadn’t said much to me. Now all she has to say is ‘We need to talk?’ This was not going to be good.

I was well into my plate of spaghetti when mom finally said, “Adelaide Johnson called me.”

My forkful of noodles dropped to my plate.

“She says you and her son were caught _kissing_.”

“Yeah?” I stared at my plate like the pile of noodles had somehow turned into a very fascinating pattern. It’s not like my mom didn’t know about my sexuality, but it and her had never crossed paths, either. This was new territory for the both of us.

“She was very upset; her husband even more so.”

“You _talked_ to him?” I bit back the desire to tattle on him for hurting me. My neck still hurt, and I had an impressive bump on the back of my head.

“No, but I overheard him yelling at their son, Elliot, while I was talking with Mrs. Johnson. It sounds really serious.”

“It is. I totally fucked up.”

My mom took her first bite of spaghetti, obviously trying to keep her tongue about my cursing at the dinner table. I was an adult now, and apparently that meant I could get away with it. It also meant I was supposed to act like an adult, too….

Baby steps.

“He told his dad that I forced him, which was _not_ true… And Mr. Johnson threw me across the room.”

Mom looked shocked. “Are you hurt?”

I rubbed my neck tenderly, trying to feel if any vertebrae seemed out of place. “I don’t know. It hurts, but it’s probably just a bruise or something. I hit my head, too, but that one will be fine.”

“Oh Mickey…” I cringed as she used the nickname I hated most.

“There’s something else…” I hesitated to tell her, but my mom and I had promised two years ago that we would always tell the other about any health problems we have. It was mostly for mom’s sake, since she was bipolar, but it also applied to me.

“I had a panic attack after Mr. Johnson kicked me out of his house. I lost consciousness for a while; I’m not sure how long.”

“Oh honey…” My mom’s face was filled with sympathetic concern, and she got up from her chair to…. Hug me? I guess? But I didn’t hug her; I didn’t do things like that. Eventually she said, “You’re going to the doctor.”

 

 

I hated hospitals. I know most people share my feelings about them, but I think my sentiments were worse. I was just downright squirrely about them. After mom’s third attempt to kill herself two years ago, I knew that I’d never be able to walk into any hospital and not be reminded of finding my mom lying unconscious on the kitchen floor in a puddle of vomit.

And I was right. I was having flashbacks all over the place.

 

The doctor who came in to examine me was nice, and more than a little hot. He was in his thirties, fit, and smelled nice. He felt up my neck, asked me to move my head around, rate my pain, and occasionally made a joke or two. I tried ever so hard not to get an erection when he touched me _everywhere_ , just to make sure I wasn’t experiencing any paralysis.

The bump on my head was superficial, as I figured, but the doctor, Emile was his name, wanted to get an x-ray of my neck to make sure nothing was broken or out of place. He was just about to leave the room to let the nurse take over when I stopped him.

“Doctor Emile?”

“Yes?”

“Um… I know this is gonna sound sketchy, since like, _everyone_ is out to get drugs nowadays, but… After my um… _fall down the stairs_ … I had a panic attack, and I passed out. I’m not sure for how long. I had clonazepam prescribed to me when I was eight, but I haven’t needed it for almost two years.”

Dr. Emile smiled, and let go of the door handle. “You’re right, it does sound sketchy.” He had an amused look dancing in his green eyes. “You’re going to need to see a _different_ type of doctor if you want those kinds of pills, alright? But one thing at a time; let’s make sure your neck’s okay first.”

I knew he was going to say that. But you can’t blame a guy for trying right? Besides, I was pretty sure that the good doctor was hitting on me, too.

Maybe today wasn’t going to end so badly after all.

My neck x-ray was uneventful and fast, and within five minutes I was back in the same Urgent Care exam room, waiting for the doctor to tell me the damage.

Mr. Hot Doctor Emile walked in, briefly flashing his perfectly white smile at me while he picked up the manila file folder. He pulled out an x-ray film and stuck it on a light box on the wall like someone would a piece of paper on a clipboard. The illuminated x-ray showed my spine, apparently, and the doctor pointed to a vague spot on the dark film.

“You’re a lucky guy.”

 _Why thank you,_ I thought sarcastically. _I was just thinking the same thing about my love life._

“You’re spine is okay. You suffered some stress, and there is some swelling around the cartilage of C2, but with rest, and some cold compresses, you’ll be good as new in less than a week.”

“So I don’t have to go around town with a frickin’ giraffe collar on my neck?”

“Nope. No giraffe collar.” The doctor definitely winked at me, and my heart did a little skip-hop at the idea of hooking up with him after the appointment.

“Thanks, doc.” I resisted the urge to wink back. “Hey, do you have like, a business card, or anything? I mean, in case I have any _questions_ later?” _Or in case I want to fuck you, later?_ Was my own little afterthought.

Emile broke out into a smile and I saw those perfect teeth again. I have to admit they made me a little self-conscious about my own average-looking teeth that were a little stained from coffee drinking.

“How about this… I get off work at eight. Maybe I could just answer all of your _questions_ then?”

I nodded, trying to keep up my tough-guy bravado, but it was hard, considering that I’d soon be sleeping with a guy that was twice my age. It was nothing to freak out about, right?

Right….

 

 

“Oh, yes...Fuck!” Emile moaned shamelessly while I fucked into him good and hard. He was on his hands and knees on his bed, and I was fucking him from behind. The position was my choosing, because although the guy couldn’t have been more different than Elliot, in body structure, and personality, I was still imagining the guy was him. I was still fantasizing that the man moaning from my powerful thrusts and my big cock was the little, petite young nymph that no doubt hated my guts.

I didn’t care that it wasn’t fair to Emile, who was clearly enjoying himself and probably thinking that this was a wet-dream come true for me to be fucking a doctor twice my age. But in reality he was just a tight ass; just a warm mouth to get me off, so I could stop being so fucking horny and maybe get over Elliot.

“I’m gonna cum, Mickael.” He articulated my name just right; the way Elliot always did, and that one similarity, that one thing this man had in common with my Elliot, completed the fantasy in my mind and I was gone. I wasn’t even aware of what I sounded like when I came. I knew it was loud, because eventually Emile joined the chorus too, and we were both moaning louder than I’d ever heard two people moan during sex. (Porn _not_ excluded)

It just felt so good. Coming in that warm ass, feeling my cum slick his tight passage for me to keep going, and going. Before I knew what was happening, we were both rock hard again, and I hadn’t even pulled out after the first time.

“Oh God, don’t stop.” Emile begged. Hot damn, this guy had some stamina. I mean, _I_ was supposed to have stamina, I was only eighteen. But this guy was well on his way to forty and he was already rearing to go again. Who was I to disappoint?

“You like my big cock?” I talked down to him, having an instinctive knowledge that he would like it. “You like it when I pound your ass hard and fast like this?”

“Yes!” Emile shrieked when I hit his prostate good and hard as I impaled him repeatedly, and violently. He loved it. I loved it.

Now _this_ was therapy.


	8. Relations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More Sexy times....

I didn’t get Emile to a second orgasm, but after a marathon of fucking for another hour I had spent myself inside his tight warmth at least twice more. I had never experienced orgasms of that intensity, or quantity, in my entire life.

My whole body was aching, but in a good way. I was so fucked-out and dazed that I forgot all about Elliot; about what he accused me of doing, and how he told me he never wanted to see me again.

Emile and I took a shower together, and then he made us a midnight snack of grilled cheese sandwiches, of which I ate three in the time it took him to eat just one. He didn’t comment on my ravenous hunger, or my complete lack of table manners. He was a refined, obviously rich gentleman who’d just gotten his ass reamed to kingdom come by a high school drop-out. He obviously wasn’t going to start complaining about my impolite behaviors now.

We fell asleep in the same bed, which was something I had never, ever done with anyone, ever. But this therapeutic fuck, my pseudo-Elliot, was introducing me to all kinds of firsts. What was one more going to hurt?

 

 

Morning came and I was a little disoriented until I felt a muscled, smooth-skinned arm wrap round my chest. There was a naked man behind me, spooning me. Memories of the night before came flooding into my brain and God help me if I didn’t get a huge hard-on thinking of all the fun I had fucking that doctor guy…

_What was his name? Eric? Emory?..._

“Who’s Elliot?”

The man behind me asked softly.

The question made me freeze. “No one… Why?”

“You were talking in your sleep. It sounded like you were saying you loved him.”

I rolled around so I could face… Emmet? Elroy? Whatever his name was, I gave him a skeptical look. “I don’t talk in my sleep.”

“You did his morning. Sounded like a _good_ dream, too.” His eyebrows bounced suggestively. “I was thinking maybe you were in the mood for some more _fun_.” He bucked his hips, and I felt his erection press against mine briefly.

“I don’t do morning sex before coffee…” I rubbed my face with my hands, trying to wring the sleepiness out of my eyes.

“Your wish is my command.” Emile, (aha! I knew I’d remember,) hopped out of bed like a spritely spring chicken and headed for his kitchen.

About ten minutes later he returned with two mugs full of steaming hot coffee. And damn, was it good coffee, too. _So this is what a doctor’s salary could afford, huh?_

After finishing my cup of delicious coffee, I was still not really in the mood for sex. After last night, I was pretty sure my libido would be satiated for at least another week before horniness could even _threaten_ to make a comeback.

Emile started with a kiss. This was the first time we kissed. The night before we were hardly patient enough for kissing and went right to the fucking. He was a really good kisser. He was cleanly shaven, so when my eyes were closed I could pretend I was kissing the true object of my affections: Elliot.

The kiss went further, and soon he was sucking on my cock. He was really good at that too. I supposed that was a really big plus to having an older, more experienced sex partner; he knew all the tricks. It wasn’t long before I was close, and thankfully he heeded my warning and came off my cock before I could cum.

We kissed again, and he splayed his whole body over mine, keeping my hands up and pinned to the mattress, holding me there possessively as he used his teeth to show me just how turned on he was. He was sucking and biting my neck, surely leaving bruises in his wake.

And I can’t say I didn’t love it. I’d never had marks on my neck before, and it felt good to think I could show them off for all to see, later. 

Before he could flip us over, like I expected him to, I heard the pop of a lube bottle cap and the distinct sound of a condom wrapper tearing. Somewhere in the back of my mind I wondered why he wanted to start using condoms _now_ , when last night I’d cum in his ass like, _three times_ , without one. But I was getting so turned on that I didn’t care.

I was just about to reach for his hand, planning to take the condom from him to use it, when I suddenly felt a very unexpected intrusion make its way into my virgin asshole.

“Holy, Jesus, Fuck!” I cried out of complete surprise. I hardly had a moment to process whether or not I liked the sensation when suddenly the slick, well-practiced middle finger found my prostate, and I was lost. My hips were bucking with a wild abandon, completely on their own accord and I was in orgasmic heaven.

Emile nailed repeatedly into that sensitive bundle of nerves inside of me and I came screaming, digging fingernails into his arm, and shooting ropes of cum all over the both of us. I thought my balls would have been completely spent, but I just kept coming, and coming.

When I finally stopped; when _it_ finally stopped, I was shaking. I was a mess; both physically and emotionally.

I didn’t have a single ounce of fight in me when I felt two fingers inside me now, instead of just the one. I’d never been fucked before. Normally I may have objected a little bit, since I wasn’t even sure how I felt about the _idea_ , let alone the _physical action_ of having someone’s cock in me. But Emile was being so sweet to me; so damn skilled and professional that I couldn’t say no. I didn’t _want_ to say no.

He rolled a condom on his cock and slicked himself up with lots of lube. I felt his two fingers leave my opening and I whimpered at the loss. But soon the fingers were replaced with something much bigger. Emile’s cock was a only a little bit bigger than mine, but it felt fucking gigantic when it was trying to get inside my virginal exit-turned-entrance.

“Relax, Mickael. I’ll make you feel so good, I promise.”

I tried to relax, and a small stroke of genius told me to bear down, so-to-speak; to push out like I was taking a shit. It helped; it really, really helped and soon the head of Emile’s cock slid into me.

Burning, stinging pain radiated throughout my entire body, and I could hardly tell that the pain originated from my ass. Emile could see my pain, and he pulled out right away.

“Shhhh…. Shhh… it’s okay.” I didn’t even realize that I was groaning in pain until he started calming me.

He immediately stuck two freshly lubed fingers inside me again, scissoring them back and forth, trying to get me to loosen up some more. Then he tried his cock again, and this time it was better. I pushed out like my life depended on it, and in two seconds flat Emile had put his entire cock inside me; he was balls deep in my ass. I wasn’t quite sure how I felt about that.

But right now, it felt good. Emile was right. I could suddenly see why guys liked this so much.

“Fuck…” Emile shuddered above me. He looked so fucking lost in pleasure, and I was sure I looked similar when I was doing the same to him. “Oh God, you’re so tight. So fucking tight, Mick.”

“You like that? Why don’t you show me what you got, big boy?” A small part of my real personality was coming back, despite my complete exhaustion. But then it suddenly occurred to me that I never told Emile I was a virgin. And I’d basically just asked him to fuck my brains out. This was going to be a bumpy ride.

 

 

 

“Oh, God! Jesus Christ, Fuck!” A litany of continual curses escaped me as Emile fucked me like I’d never seen anyone fuck. It was like he had boundless energy coming from some magical source. Maybe I should work out more often, too…

My ass hurt so good; I never thought I would get off on the occasional stinging pain that coursed through my body as Emile fucked into me over and over. His hips were like a god’s; never losing their power and consistently hitting my prostate, which had me literally weeping with turmoil over the fact that I just couldn’t cum. My body was completely spent; I was officially on sensory overload, and I fucking loved it.

“I’m gonna cum, baby. You want my cum in your ass?”

I nodded, not even realizing that it was just dirty talk; he wore a condom after all…

That’s when it happened. He grabbed my cock with a slick hand and stroked it roughly. That, along with the consistent assault on my prostate, made my entire world collapse.

The scream that broke loose from my throat would have made anyone overhearing us call the cops. Thankfully, Emile lived alone. I kept screaming as Emile thrust into me one last time, tensing and groaning, and obviously enjoying his own intense orgasm; but not nearly as fucking intense as mine.

Emile stayed inside for a little bit, allowing both of us to catch our breath for a second.

“Elliot…” I moaned pathetically as I felt the softening cock pulling out of my insanely sore ass.

I knew Emile was not Elliot. And Emile probably knew that I wasn’t just calling his name incorrectly. But he lay on top of me anyway, his sweaty head resting on my even sweatier chest while we fell back asleep.

 

 

Another shower was in order, and afterwards, I snuggled up to Emile on his fancy leather couch while I texted my mom. I told her I was at a friend’s house, and that the doc appointment ‘went well’ and that there was nothing wrong with me. In fact, I noticed then that my neck felt a lot better; still sore, but not extremely. Maybe Emile really was good for me.

“Will you stay?” Emile murmured into my hair while he played with it, making it all spiky like an anime character.

“For how long?” Was he thinking the whole day? The weekend?

“I was thinking indefinitely.”

“What?” I reeled back, feeling very confused indeed. 

“You could stay here, with me. That is… if you don’t have anything more important in life going on right now.”

“You’re asking me to _live_ with you?”

“It’s a nice arrangement, don’t you think? I travel a lot for work; you can house-sit for me. If you want you can go get a job too, and save up for a nice place of your own, or college. You won’t have to pay rent, or anything.”

“What’s the catch?” I was officially weirded-out that this guy was offering for me to live with him and he hadn’t even known me for a full day. But I couldn’t say I wasn’t tempted by his offer.

“The only ‘catch’ is that we remain exclusive, sexually. We can break ties whenever you wish, but while we’re together, I’m the only person you have sex with. The same would go for me, too, of course.”

“Holy shit… You’re _serious_.” I got a little suspicious that he’d laced my coffee with something, because if I were my normal self, I’d be out the door, in my car, and never looking back. But instead I was starting to really consider his offer.

“I’m _lonely_ , Mickael. And I can tell you’re going through some tough shit right now. Whoever this Elliot is…”

My cheeks turned bright red at the mention of Elliot, because it made me think of how I’d fucked up and called Emile ‘Elliot’ right after our mind-blowing sex.

“He obviously broke your heart.” Emile finished his thought. “And I just want to give you time to recover; maybe fix things with him, or find love elsewhere. Whatever you want to do is fine with me. I just… I’d never had so much fun in the bedroom as I did last night, and this morning. _Never_. You are just so goddamn perfect. I’d be a fool not to at least try to get you to stay.”

“Aren’t there like… rules against this sort of thing? Doctor/patient relationships?” I was _this_ close to saying yes to his offer. It seemed like a good idea. In fact, it seemed like a fucking terrific idea.

“I was going to get to that.” He cleared his throat so he could sound all professional. “Mickael, I can’t be your doctor anymore… I’m sorry, but the sex is just too good.”

I laughed before he could finish and soon we were both chuckling and kissing on the sofa, well on our way to acting like a pair of cutesy lovers. And, for the first time in almost two months, Elliot did not once pop into my mind.

 

For a whole ten minutes. What a record.


	9. Future

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A chapter of change and transition. (Don't worry, the next one will be much more eventful...)

**_Ten months later…._ **

 

I couldn’t believe how long it had been since I saw Elliot last. I creeper-stalked him every once in a while on an online social media website, just to see how he was doing.

He seemed happy, but then again so did everyone else posting online. I created an online account just so I could see the photos he posted of him and his girlfriend Lexi, obviously just to torture myself. I was so good at that. Just the fact that I was checking in on his posts twice a month told me that I was a glutton for punishment.

 And no, I did _not_ print out his fucking adorable selfie just so I could jerk off staring at it. That would be creepy… I printed it out so I could remember him, and his smile, and all the fun we had together at that camp. And yeah, okay I _occasionally_ jerked off to the photo…

But hey, I was still in love.

 

Emile and I were still living together. He was right all along; it was a really great arrangement. I took care of his house, went to the community college to get my GED, and worked at a fast food joint to get some money for things like a laptop, some new clothes, and my own phone plan so I wasn’t mooching off my mom. She and I didn’t talk anymore; she was more than a little disapproving of my relationship with a guy old enough to be my father. But she would never understand. What Emile and I had was hardly a relationship; more like a mutual agreement to be each other’s only sexual partner and for me to take care of his house while he was away on business (which was very frequently.)

 I was genuinely surprised that he hadn’t brought emotions to the table. He was a possessive bastard, but he wasn’t in love.

And for that, I was extremely grateful.

 

And despite being possessive, he had good reason for wanting to be exclusive; a really good reason that led to our first fight.

 

****

**_Nine months ago…._ **

 

Emile was back from a doctor conference thingy in Puerto Rico, and although I hadn’t really missed _him_ , I really missed his cock. I needed a good fuck, and fast. As soon as Emile was settled in and showered, I pounced on him. I instantly had him pinned to the bed, smiling and happy to be of service to me; until I tried to take his cock into my mouth.

“Wait, Mick. I have to tell you something.”

“Yes?” I waited just above his erect cock, my mouth only inches away.

“Come up here, please.” He beckoned me to come closer, and I reluctantly obeyed.

“What is it? I really need you to fuck me, like, _now_. It’s been _three weeks_.”

“I will. But I have to tell you something first.”

“Yes?” I drummed my fingers against his chest lightly while I impatiently waited for what he had to tell me.

“I’m HIV positive.”

“What the fuck?!” I practically flung myself away from him, and I almost fell off the opposite side of the bed.

“Hey, don’t freak out.” Emile said calmly, even though it was too fucking late for that. “Look, I’m on meds; have been for years. I’m not contagious.”

“Then why did you _tell_ me?” I was still repulsed and angry that he didn’t tell me the first time we had sex; when I fucked him _without a condom_. But now it made sense why he used a condom to fuck me…

“Because there’s just a slight, _slight_ chance that you could contract HIV, _or_ that you could get dosed with my anti-viral meds through… my _semen_.”

“Slight chance?!” my voice was still escalated. “How slight are we talking?”

“Like, not even _half_ of one percent. The likelihood of you getting HIV from me is less than half a percent, and the chances are _non-existent_ if I use a condom. I just… I wanted you to know before you… put your mouth on me.”

I was still angry, and my erection had long gone away. “I can’t believe that you, a _doctor,_ for fuck’s sake, let me have sex with you without a condom! Do you realize just how fucking irresponsible that was?”

“Look, Mick, the chances of me transmitting it are-”

“I don’t give a fuck!” I knew I was only being slightly unreasonable. My chest was heaving in anger, and after a moment longer of reveling in my indignation and self-righteousness, I finally said, “You’re getting me fucking tested, right fucking now.”

 

 

I was clean. Emile was right. I was fine. I would be fine. It was just like me to overreact. But I now understood his rules about sexual exclusivity.

Although I was expecting some kind of wild story of a certain sexy doctor having a one-night stand with a prostitute at a bachelor party, Emile’s HIV source history was a little less sexy than that.

Apparently Brazil’s blood donor testing wasn’t all that thorough ten years ago, and Emile was in a car wreck in Rio and needed a blood transfusion to save him. I guess taking medication for the rest of his life was better than not living at all…

Despite the fact that my test came back negative, the argument became a major cock-block, and neither of us was ready for sex for another two days.

 It was an awkward two days. But then it was like, the opposite of awkward, and that made it all worth it. Emile was _perfect_ in bed. I never thought sex could feel as amazing as it did with him. After a while I stopped imagining it was Elliot, and just enjoyed it being Emile, the sexy, virile doctor who knew all the right buttons to press to make me completely fall apart.

If Elliot was my soul mate, then Emile was my kryptonite.

 

****

**_Back to the future…_ **

 

I decided that before I made any decisions about my long-term future, I had to see Elliot again. I wasn’t a love-sick puppy anymore, but I was still in love, and very much open to the idea of dating him if he would have me. But the chances of him having me were next to none. In fact, I was pretty sure that I had a better chance of contracting HIV from Emile than I had of getting together with Elliot. But hey, a guy could hope, right?

A plan. I needed a plan. I didn’t have a very good history with plans, so I asked Emile for advice.

 

“You’re trying to get together with a guy who has a girlfriend? And they’re _engaged_?”

“What? They’re not-” my voice cut off when I noticed the picture on my laptop screen that Emile was pointing at. Lexi, the blonde cheerleader-like girlfriend, had her left hand in view of the camera, and there was a shiny ring on her finger.

I could not have been more devastated.

“Well… Yes, I guess I am.”

Emile looked at me sympathetically, and I could read his mind. He was thinking that this would not end well for me. And it probably wouldn’t. I was just a glutton for cruel and unusual punishment.

 

 

 

“Mick! Holy cow I didn’t think I would ever see _you_ again!” Vic, the kitchen manager at Camp Firewood, embraced me in a suffocating, BO-drenched hug before I could duck out of the way. “I didn’t believe the director when he told me you were coming back; for the whole summer! What have you been up to? How have you been?”

I talked with Vic for a while, surprised that I wasn’t completely irritated the entire time. He wasn’t really all that bad; he’d grown on me a little. While we caught up I made sure to leave out the bit about living with a guy twice my age, and that we had some sort of fuck-buddy relationship going.

“Hey, it’s cool that you and Elliot get to work together again this summer. Maybe things will work out better this time around, huh?”

Vic’s statement shocked me a little bit, but I shrugged it off as innocent; maybe he thought that Elliot and I were just friends and nothing else.

And in reality, that was true. We were just friends. Actually, we were probably not even that. We were _ex-friends_.

 

The moment Elliot walked in on my washing a small load of dishes in the camp kitchen was one for the history books. He looked so confused that he may as well have been cross-eyed. I tried not to laugh at his complete and utter shock.

“Mick?!” He faltered in his step for a second, looking completely bewildered. “What are you doing here? Did you…” His voice went quieter so no one would overhear. “Did you get into _trouble_ again?”

“No Elliot.” I positively beamed at him. “I’m here on my own free will. I’m washing dishes for the whole summer. Eight weeks. Isn’t it great?”

“But I thought you hated dishes!” He looked very suspicious of my motives, and with good reason.

“I do, but I like hanging out with you. So, since my college stuff doesn’t start until September, I decided to spend my whole summer working with you. Doesn’t that sound like fun?”

“Wait… college? You’re doing _college_?”

“Yes, Elliot. I went and got my GED, and I’ve already enrolled in a CNA course for this fall.”

Elliot’s eyes looked down to the floor. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sound so surprised that you’re going to college. It’s not like you’re not smart, it’s just that-”

“Relax, El. I get it.”

“You’re going to be a CNA? What made you want to go into the nursing field?”

“I know, right?...  I guess it’s just a way for me to make some money while I figure out what I really want to do. CNA’s get paid really well, and it’d be better than working at the Burger Joint.”

“Are you still living at home?”

“No, I live with a friend.” I let the word “friend” hang in the air to see if I could get a read on any jealousy Elliot might betray, but I saw none.

 “So I hear you’re getting _married_?”

Elliot blushed a deep red color, and I forgot how much I’d missed that about him. I loved that he got flustered so easily.

“It’s complicated.”

“Oh? Calling it off, are you?” I resumed my scrubbing on the dishes, hoping to appear nonchalant instead of hopeful.

“No, probably not… it’s just that… _She_ actually asked _me_.”

 _Whoa. Desperate, much?_  “Oh,” Was all I said, and I was so proud of myself for holding my tongue. Hanging around Emile for almost a full year had done a lot of good for me; I was acting so _mature_.

We didn’t say too much more after that. It could wait till later. We had the whole summer after all…

 

 

I was glad that Lexi never came to the camp; she was apparently volunteering with some kind of earthquake relief trip in Haiti. That news made me regret thinking she was a bitch without even meeting her.

Anyone willing to spend eight weeks in Haiti instead of with her boyfriend was either a saint, or she just really hated her boyfriend. I decided to hope for the best; I really hoped that she hated her boyfriend.

 


	10. Events

Two weeks went by without much event. Elliot and I seemed to be friends again; good friends, who joked around and poked fun at each other every chance we got. Elliot seemed to lose his suspicious undertones and eventually relaxed around me, convinced I wasn’t just trying to get in his pants. Because even though nothing would have made me happier than to finally be together with Elliot, I was actually, for once, _not_ trying to get in his pants. Much of my horny angst had been at least temporarily fucked out of me by Emile, my very helpful, and very sexy older friend.

 

 

“Hey, you going to church tomorrow?” Elliot approached me from behind, and I swear I could smell his fruity shampoo again as the wind drifted my direction. He found me standing all alone in our private alcove in the trees. All the memories and all the emotions were running laps through my veins. And Elliot wanted to talk about _church_.

“Are _you_ going?” I whirled around to face him, and it took my brain a second to register just how close we were standing. I resisted the temptation to kiss him; I was playing my cards _wisely_ this time. When did I get to be so mature?

“Yes, I’m going to the second service since it is right between breakfast and lunch dishes.”

“Yeah I guess I’ll go. Do you want a ride? We can take my convertible, drive with the top down.”

Elliot smiled and nodded. “That sounds like fun. How did you get to afford a convertible?”

“Hey, it’s nothing fancy, okay? Just because it doesn’t have a roof doesn’t make it expensive. Just wait till you see it.”

 

 

 

“You’re right. This thing is not very classy.” Elliot balked when he sat down on the beat-up and worn, fake leather seat. He was dressed all nice in some dark blue skinny jeans and a light blue button-up shirt that made him look every bit like a fashion model. His hair was combed perfectly straight and although he’d trimmed his hair shorter than it was the last summer, it was still long and silky and light brown and just _perfect_. I was going to have so much fun getting that hair all tangled before church, but not quite in the way I’d normally want to.

“You ever drive in one of these?”

“No?”

“Well… You’re gonna wish you brought a hairbrush…”

 

 

Church was weird. I mean like, really, really weird. I think I may have attended a Christening for a distant cousin of mine when I was like… five years old? Other than that, I had literally never been to a church. Not on Christmas, Easter, or even a wedding. I, Mikael Smith, was a true church-virgin.

 

The singing was okay, despite the fact that I didn’t understand any of what was said. But I guess I caught the gist: Jesus was good; God is great; let’s all sing about it. That’s all it was. I thought if that’s all there was to church, I might be okay with it. I mean, I got to sit knee-to-knee with Elliot, so that was nice.

 

Until the preacher spoke. Then it all went to hell. Or, apparently, _I_ was the one going to hell.

The news of some church nearby who fired their pastor due to some “sexual immorality” scandal inspired the topic of the sermon. That topic took an inevitable rabbit trail down to some not-so-very-nice Bible verses about you know, homos, lesbos, freaks n’ geeks… the whole gamut.

Elliot sensed my discomfort and gave me a sympathetic frown. In fair retaliation, I gave my closet-case of a friend a sympathetic frown right back.

 

“It’s not that God doesn’t _love_ the gays…” The preacher’s words hit my eardrums like sharp needles. “He just wants them all to live righteously! He wants them to seek _salvation_ and forgiveness…”

 

That was it. I was outta here. I stood up and carefully slipped past the other people sitting in my row, and ignored the questioning looks I got when I walked down the middle aisle of seats.

Once outside, in the hot summer scorch, I realized that Elliot followed me out. And for the first time since knowing Elliot, I didn’t want to talk to him. I felt flustered, judged, and embarrassed. Why the hell had I agreed to go?

“Mick, I’m so sorry. I had no idea he was going to talk abou-”

“Is that what you believe, Elliot? That when we die, I am going to burn in _hell_ while you sit upstairs in heaven with the Big G? All because I sucked cock and you licked pussy?” The “p” word tasted awful in my mouth, and I was pretty sure it was the first time I’d even definitively _thought_ that word, let alone said it.

It had the desired effect on Elliot, however; he looked confused, frustrated, and at a loss for words.

We were standing right outside the little white church on the corner of the block, and I was so glad that we didn’t have an audience, unlike that dick preacher inside. But even if there were people around, I was so fucking done with this shit, that I probably would have said the same things, and with the same volume.

I took a little pity on Elliot though, when I saw tears start to gather in his beautiful blue-green eyes. He was standing so close to me…

I took the liberty of hugging him, and thankfully he reciprocated it. It wasn’t like a brotherly hug, or even a friendly hug. It was an embrace meant to communicate my love to him through something other than my lips; I hadn’t much luck using those with Elliot anyway. So I used my arms.

We hugged intimately for at least two minutes, and my anger had gone down considerably in that time. But I still had something to say. I pulled back from the hug and retreated back to our standard distance so I could look him square in the eyes.

My voice was calm, and serious. “If you believe in a God that judges people based on who they _love_ , then every kind word you say about that God: that He is love, that He loves, or that he is good; is a _lie_.”

Elliot nodded and looked away from me. The tears were falling freely now, and he bit his lip so hard I feared it might bleed.

“I can’t be a part of that anymore. And I’m sorry. I love you, Elliot, and you know that. I could fall in love a dozen more times in my life, but no matter what, a big part of me will _always_ love you as long as I live.”

Elliot shook his head, still refusing to make eye contact with me again. He blinked away the tears and wiped his eyes with his sleeve. “So this is it; you’re leaving?” His quaking voice told me I’d really shaken him up bad. “I’m never going to see you again?”

“Not unless you come to me first. If you need help, or you need someone to talk to, just call. But… I don’t think I can hang around this crowd anymore… It’s not where I belong.”

Elliot nodded again, his teeth still worrying that dry, lower lip and I really wanted to kiss that horrid tortured expression right off his face.

But before I could say anything stupid, or do anything even _more_ stupid, I left. I left Elliot at the little white church on the corner of the block. And surprisingly, I felt like I might have actually done the right thing.

For once.

 

 

 

“What’s wrong, Mickael? You look so tense…” Emile came up from behind me as I sat on the leather sofa. He took my shoulders into his strong, experienced doctor hands, and I moaned loudly as he massaged my shoulders with an enthusiastic skill that I thought had to be _illegal_ it felt so damn good.

“Trouble in paradise, maybe?” He mumbled sweetly into my ear while he worked his magic on my shoulders.

“Not while you’re doing _this_ ….” I groaned in pleasure. I leaned my head back so he would kiss me, and we did so for a full minute before he pulled away to focus more on the massage that I swore I should have been paying him for. 

“Elliot and I officially broke up. I’ve decided not to pursue him anymore.”

“Ohh… I’m sorry.” Emile sounded genuinely concerned, and I felt grateful for the listening ear.

“It also frees up the rest of my summer… I’ve decided not to volunteer at that camp anymore.”

“Okay… That makes me very happy, because I want to ask you something.”

My heart rate spiked momentarily as I grappled to think of what he could have possibly wanted to ask me. I pulled away from the heavenly shoulder rub so I could look at him properly. He got the hint, and he came around the sofa to sit next to me. Our knees touched, and at the last second he grabbed one of my hands as well.

“I was wondering if you’d like to come to Australia with me.”

My mind reeled. I had hardly been out of state, let alone out of the country. “Australia? I don’t have a passport.”

“We’ll get one for you. It’s not for a few weeks. It’s just that… I _really_ want you to come with me. I’m speaking for the first time, in Sydney at the cardiologist conference, and I just need someone to…. Help me with all the energy build-up, you know? I need an _outlet_ , so to speak.”

I laughed, still not quite believing my ears. Australia, huh? It all sounded so exciting. “We’re… still just, you know… _friends_ , right? This doesn’t change our relationship?”

“Not at all. We stay the same as always, just halfway around the world. What do you say? Will you come with me?” Emile looked at me with adorable pleading eyes. He had been the prefect friend and a perfect gentleman to me. How could I refuse?

“Well who’s going to water the plants?”

 

 

Sydney was incredible. I felt so spoiled. Emile treated me like a real lover. We got room service, there was a big hot tub in our hotel room, and the view was incredible. I could see the ocean right from our room, through the huge walls that were made entirely of glass. Sometimes it felt like I could just step out and walk on the air, twelve storey’s high above the streets below.

And the sex. Oh God… Emile was not kidding when he talked about needing an outlet for all of his nervous energy. We fucked like rabbits the morning before his big talk at the conference. He let me fuck him, and then we switched for a little while until he was satisfied a second, and maybe even a _third_ time. How he was able to stand up in front of thousands of people, and talk about anything other than how fucking exhausted he was, was just another magical mystery that made up Emile.

That night I gave him a back massage, though I was surely not as good at it as him, and I rode his cock for the first time while we were in the hot tub. Emile praised me all the while for my efforts to make him feel so good, and he assured me that I was a very talented lover.

And it felt good for me, too.

But while we lay in bed, feeling spent and satiated, my heart felt empty. I wanted to be able to roll over, kiss Emile on the cheek, and say “I love you.”But not to Emile, really… I wanted to say it to _Elliot_. I knew I was not even close to being over Elliot, as much as I wished and wished. I also knew that I was not in love with Emile, but that was okay. I was glad not to have that confusing drama in my life.

That night I dreamt of Elliot, and his future. I dreamt that he was married, had three kids, and was so fucking lonely and tired of living his perfect little lie. Just seeing his anguish in the dream made me wake up to a sopping wet pillowcase.

Damn… this kid got me good.


	11. Guilty

Being a certified nursing assistant was really great. The test took forever to prepare for, but after I passed it was all worth it. Once my certification papers came through I got to work in the same hospital as Emile, and occasionally we even crossed paths in the hospital hallways.

Unfortunately, a lady RN who had an undying crush on the sexy man I lived with caught on that Emile and I had a thing going, and she put me on “shit duty” as her jealous retaliation. Shit duty was exactly what it sounds like; I got to clean up shit. I almost lost my lunch over one particularly bad adult diaper, and I considered quitting. But I couldn’t quit. I wouldn’t let the witch win.

After a week of nothing but shit duty, Emile pulled some strings and had the RN transferred to a different department. I was touched by the gesture; I hadn’t even said anything to Emile, and yet he was looking out for me.

I was hardly in love with the guy, but I really did like him. He was kind of like the dad I never had; a dad that I had wild, crazy passionate sex with…. Yeah, maybe I should take that thought back….

 

 The winter holidays were approaching. It would be Emile and I’s second Christmas together. I hadn’t heard from my mom in almost three months. I left a few messages on her phone about twice a month, but she never called back. I figured she was just busy. But now it really hit me that I had no idea where she was, or how she was doing. I decided to give her another call.

As I lay down on the leather sofa in our living room with a phone to my ear, Emile came in the door carrying an insane amount of groceries. It looked like he planned on staying in town for a while.

I heard a click on the other end of the line, but no voice. “Hello?” I tried. “Anyone there?... Mom?”

Nothing. I waited another few seconds before I heard an automated voice say the message box was full, and I hung up the phone.

“Would you come help me with this food, Mick?” Emile beckoned me from the kitchen and I shrugged off the weird phone call to go help him. I was getting really good at ignoring problems; what was one more?

 

 

 

That night I thought of Elliot. It irked me a little that no matter how many times Emile and I fucked, no matter how much fun we had, at the end of the day, as I was falling asleep, my last conscious thought was always of Elliot.

 

 

It was only four days until Christmas. I still hadn’t made any contact with my mom. I was really getting worried. I called her phone a dozen more times before finally digging up her employer’s number.

“Eleanor hasn’t worked here for a month. She just up and quit. I’m sorry that you can’t get a hold of her.”

My tongue swelled thick with anxiety the moment I heard the news. I had no idea how the hell I’d let this get so out of hand… Had I forgotten about all those years of constant worrying and caring for my mom because she couldn’t take care of herself? Had it completely slipped my mind that she was a bipolar woman who needed supervision to make sure the meds were working?

Or did I just not care?

I hopped into my car and sped to my mom’s apartment, dreading the worst. She was probably buried in a mess of take-out boxes and dirty dishes, too depressed to do anything about the mess. Days and days of my childhood were spent dealing with that; doing the dishes, making the food, all while mom was too depressed to get out of bed. I braced myself for the junk pile I was sure to meet with this time, since mom had gone unchecked for so long.

 

 

 

My cell phone stuck to my cold, sweaty ear like a tongue to ice. My hands were shaking, and I was sure that as soon as I opened my mouth that nothing would come out.

The phone seemed to come alive when someone answered with a cheery “Hello…?” Elliot sounded well; really, really well. It was almost too much to hear his voice again, and my voice caught in my throat as I replied, “Hey Elliot. It’s Mick.”

“Mick, hey, it’s so good to hear from you. It’s been forever. How’s that CNA thing going? My mom said she saw you at the hospital in _scrubs_. Hard to imagine seeing you in scrubs, Mick.”

“Mmhmm.”

“Seriously though, how are you? Is there something going on?”

I bit back a sob, and took a deep breath to get a hold of myself.

“Umm… Not really great. My mom’s dead.”

“What?” Elliot’s reaction was instantaneous. “What happened?”

“Oh, well… you know… I was going to check on my mom, and to… bring her some Christmas cookies…. And…” I hesitated, trying to keep my voice from turning into a garbled mess. “She’s dead. I found her in her bedroom. She’s dead.” I was astonished at my own composure, but I knew it was weak. I had tears falling from my eyes, but no sobs escaped me as of yet. I bit my lip and tried to think of anything but what I’d just said three seconds ago, trying to stay coherent and composed enough to talk.

There was complete silence on the other end of the line; Elliot was frozen in shock. I knew the feeling. “Oh my God…” Elliot finally breathed. I heard the slam of a door and it took me a second to realize that it was from Elliot’s end of the line. “I’m on my way right now, Mick. Text me the address.”

I hung up the phone and obeyed right away, not caring that snot was dripping freely from my nose and onto the phone’s touch-screen, blurring the lines and making all the words and keypad letters unreadable. I sat and waited for Elliot to arrive, not moving a single inch, still hunched over and letting the tears and snot drip down into a puddle on the floor. I watched with a strange fascination as the puddle got bigger and bigger on the smooth wood floor, the snot mixing with tears in a weird, swirling pattern.

Soon I heard the apartment door close and light footsteps running in my direction. Elliot stopped in the doorway, taking in the scene before him.

He saw me first; the pathetic looking, rumpled-up basket-case sitting on the edge of the bed; and then mom, the long-dead corpse laying in bed with her blankets tucked up under her arms and her pale, lifeless hands sitting atop the bedspread.

Elliot, my sweet, angelic, wonderful Elliot, rushed over to me and immediately pulled me into a tight, unreserved embrace. I took it. I nuzzled my head into his chest and took the comfort he was giving me. He smelled like hot chocolate and peppermint. It made me smile, despite the awful guilt and sorrow ripping me to shreds on the inside.

“I’m so sorry, Mickael.” Elliot whispered into my hair. He didn’t once loosen his grip; he was giving me the embrace for as long as I wanted. I wish we could stay like that forever.

But we couldn’t. Elliot didn’t like me in that way. Also, there was the stinking corpse of my dead mother that might kill the mood after a while, too. There was that.

“Have you called anyone else yet? The cops? Your mom’s landlord?”

I shook my head, biting back the flood of sobs that were sure to catch up with me soon.

“Alright… I can do it if you like.”

I nodded, unwilling to trust my voice at this point. Elliot kept on arm wrapped around me as he pulled his phone out and looked up the local police department’s non-emergency number. It’s not like she was going anywhere, right? After a short wait on the line, he was talking to an officer. I was so grateful for his tact, respect, and bravery in telling the officer on the phone the situation. Once he hung up, he informed me that a squad car was on the way with an ambulance and the coroner. I only gave a series of nods in response, and maybe a ‘thank you’ or two.

Eventually Elliot got me to leave the bedroom, and he took me to sit down in the living room instead. The old sofa welcomed me and my ass-cheeks fit in the indentation in the worn foam cushion, right where it always had. There was no place like home.

Elliot got me a glass of water which I immediately gulped down. I didn’t realize just how dehydrated I was from all the crying. He sat next to me on the sofa, embracing me in a side-hug and soothing me with soft whispers like “It’s gonna be okay, Mick. It’ll all be alright.”

It was all talk, of course. In reality, things were not going to be alright. My mother was dead. The only known family I had left on this planet was dead. Now there was only me; little old me in this huge fucking world. But there was Elliot, too. That was nice. It felt good to have Elliot here to keep me sane.

 

The cops came and asked me all sorts of prying questions that I was in no condition or mood to answer, but I did anyway. I told them that I hadn’t heard anything from my mom in months, and that I had no idea when, or how she died. Just that I’d found her dead about two hours before the police were notified.

It looked like suicide. They found a mostly empty bottle of vodka and a completely empty prescription bottle of lithium right next to her bed, so the cause of death seemed pretty obvious. It was hardly a comfort to me. I could not have felt any guiltier if I had killed her myself. I should have been there for her. I should have checked in on her more often… I should have stopped by at least…

At some point I’d started voicing my guilty thoughts without even realizing it. The cops were gone, and so was my mom’s body. It was just me, Elliot, and my tear-filled ranting.

“It’s alright, Mick. It’s not your fault. Please, don’t say that…” Elliot cooed and calmed and did the best he could to keep me grounded. His hands were on my arms, and I was bent over, my head practically hanging between my legs as I rocked and sobbed and did nothing but feel the loss and guilt evict all the goodwill and happiness that ever resided in my heart.

 

Elliot took me home to Emile’s house. He made sure I showered, changed my clothes, and ate some food before going to bed. It was well after midnight now… Emile was gone to his brother’s. That meant I would have to sleep alone in the big, empty house. I wasn’t sure I could handle that.

Elliot seemed to read my mind, however. When he covered me up with the blankets on the bed, I was pleasantly surprised to feel him settle on the other side. He was sitting up and reading something on his phone, but at least he was here. With me. It was perfect.

My head hurt worse than I ever thought possible, and my sinuses were sore and completely dried out from all the crying. But somehow, it still felt good. It felt good to close my tired eyes, knowing that Elliot was watching over me. And as always, my last conscious thought was of my angel.

 

“I love you, Elliot…”

 

 

The next morning was really the next afternoon. I slept until well after three o’clock pm. Elliot was nowhere to be seen. I thought maybe he’d left, but after a few seconds he reappeared in the bedroom with a cup of fresh coffee. As if I couldn’t be any more in love.

He let me drink it in silence, not expecting anything out of me until the caffeine had started to work its magic on my aching and tired body.

“Was all that real?” I finally asked him. I didn’t really want to know the answer, but Elliot responded anyway.

“I’m afraid so, Mick. I’m so sorry.”

“I don’t think I can even cry anymore… I literally think I have run out of emotion.”

“That’s normal. And it’s a good thing. You’re not bottling up everything. It was good that you cried last night.”

“I know.” I looked down at my now empty coffee mug, and remembered Emile. He would be returning soon. It’s not like he would freak out over Elliot being in his bedroom, but I suddenly realized that he didn’t know about my mom’s death. I never called him.

The moment I finished the thought, I heard the familiar, distant sound of the downstairs front door opening.

“That’s Emile. We live together.” I explained quickly before Elliot could freak out.

“Oh.”

I tried not to smile upon hearing the obvious jealousy in his voice.

“He’s cool, don’t worry. He’s not going to mind that you’re here; it’s just that I… didn’t call him last night…. So he has no idea…. About any of it…”

“Do you want me to tell him?” Elliot started to make a move towards the bedroom door, but I motioned for him to stop.

“No, it’s okay. Just stay here. It’ll all work out.”

Footsteps made their way closer and closer, and Emile slowly peeked into the bedroom, evidently looking for me.

“Hey, Mick… Merry Christmas, ba-” His voice cut off short when he saw Elliot.

“Emile, this is Elliot.”

Emile opened the door the rest of the way, his face scrunched in confusion. “Oh. Hi Elliot. I’ve heard so much about you...” He gave me a suggestive, questioning look as if he thought I’d gotten lucky with my longtime crush. But the look on my face made his smirk disappear rather quickly.

“My mom’s dead.”

“Oh my God….” Emile reacted much the same way Elliot had. “Mick...” He hurried over to my spot on the bed and landed right next to me, diving in for an immediate hug. His casual familiarity with me no doubt caught Elliot’s notice. The same with his kiss on my cheek, or the carding of fingers through my hair as Emile tried to do what he thought a grieving lover would want. But I didn’t want it.

Suddenly, now that Elliot was here too, Emile’s touch felt cheap; a cheap imitation of what I really needed and desired. But Emile was trying. I couldn’t be upset at Emile. He was lovely, and treated me perfectly well. I figured I should at least allow him to comfort me; coiling away from him would only make things worse, and possibly hurt his feelings.

At least now I had two people in my life that seemed to give a fuck. That was two more than I knew I had.

 

Emile cuddled with me on the bed early on in the evening. We were lying atop the blankets; my leg wrapped around his waist and my face resting on his sturdy chest like a pillow. I could hear his heartbeat, and it was comforting. I almost fell asleep like that, but I suddenly became aware of another presence upstairs. A moment later I saw Elliot come in the bedroom again. I tried not to beam upon seeing him for the second time that day. I had detached my leg from Emile's waist already; I didn’t want to make Elliot feel awkward or unwanted.

“So, I made a few calls for you... I went through your mom’s address book. Most people didn’t answer, probably because of the holidays.”

“Thank you, El. You didn’t have to do that..”

“I know. I said I wanted to help, and I meant it. Is there anything else you need?”

“Did you hear from the coroner?” Something felt so clinical about this conversation; like it was devoid of emotion. I hated the way Elliot was talking to me; it was like he was afraid to show any feeling for fear I might spiral out of control or something.

“The coroner said the estimated time of death was four days ago…. They concluded that she died from an overdose of alcohol mixed with her meds.” Elliot’s voice was so soft; like I was a delicately assembled card tower just waiting to fall over. “Likely intentional. They said they can release the body for burial whenever you’re ready.”

“She wanted to be cremated.”

“Mick,” Emile finally said something. “We can talk about it later, okay? There’s no rush.” He smoothed his hand down my arm in an effort to be comforting, but it still felt like an empty gesture and it did nothing for me. I looked back to Elliot, who was looking at the way Emile handled me, obviously trying to mask the fire of guilt-ridden jealousy. I tried not to feel happy about that emotion roiling in his veins. Whatever happened to Lexi?

 

“Emile, could Elliot and I have a minute?”

“Are you sure you’ll be okay if I leave?”

“Yes, I’m pretty sure my mom will still be dead, and I will still be devastated by the time I come downstairs to get something to eat.”

“Okay.” Emile gave me a lingering kiss on the cheek before heading out of the bedroom. “I’ll make grilled cheese sandwiches; _lots_ of them.” He called out over his shoulder.

 

Elliot and I were alone now. In a bedroom. This was not a good idea.


	12. Emotions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elliot has learned a lot since Mick left.

“Look, Mick I wanted to tell you something.” Elliot began as soon as we were alone.

“Yes?”

“I’ve wanted to apologize for what I said to my dad; when I told him that you kissed me without my permission. It was such a stupid thing of me to say.”

“It’s alright, Elliot. I understand why you did it. It’s fine.”

“It’s _not_ fine. Will you forgive me?

“Yes, of course.” I was too emotionally harrowed to go over this, but I was so glad that Elliot was really _talking_ with me that I just didn’t care.

“Good. Because, if I’m honest, with myself, and you… I really _did_ want you to kiss me. It was nice.”

My heart picked up a few paces when I heard those words. I looked into Elliot’s eyes; those blue-green soul windows that captured my heart, and there I saw something akin to affection; love. But it was too good to be true, wasn’t it?

“I’m sure you get plenty of that with Lexi, right? You and her?” I let my doubt show; unless Elliot spelled it out to me, I wasn’t going to take any chances.

Elliot gave a light chuckle that turned into a brief, pained groan. “No, Lexi and I broke up; a while ago. I had to break it to her that I was basically just using her as a shield; a ruse to convince my family _and_ myself that I wasn’t gay.”

I gulped hard upon hearing what Elliot was saying. Or what I thought he was saying.

“So… You’ve decided that now? You’re gay?”

Elliot nodded. “I am. I still don’t know how that ties in with my faith; I don’t have all my answers yet… But no matter how hard I tried I couldn’t change my feelings for…” he cut off his sentence and looked at me meaningfully. He stepped closer, till I could feel his breath ghosting over my neck. I wanted to kiss him, but I couldn’t. I knew if we were going to kiss, Elliot would need to be the one to start it. I wasn’t about to play hard to get, but I needed to know for sure that this is what Elliot truly wanted.

His quiet voice cracked a little as he said, “I prayed, I starved myself, I looked at porn, I tried and tried to make myself be attracted to girls, but nothing worked. And I want you to know that I’m sorry, for all the turmoil I put you through, waiting for me. At first, when I met you, I thought you were hitting on me just for the sake of hitting on me. But everything you’ve done for me; caring for me, and being so damn stubborn about it…” He chuckled a little at that last bit, and it made me smile despite the crazy concoction of emotions running through me. “…You never gave up, not once; I know that you actually love me, Mickael. And it’s real, and it’s tangible. And… I hope that you will forgive me for being such an indecisive nincompoop about how I feel. But I know what I want now… if you’ll have me.”

“Is this a dream?”

“Yes.” Elliot answered just to humor me, and we both shared playful smiles. I looked into his emerald eyes, finally seeing everything that I felt for him reflected back like a mirror.

“I really want to kiss you, Mick.”

I nodded, wordlessly; breathlessly. I didn’t know if I could handle life anymore if this turned out to be a dream, or a trick, or just another upturn on Elliot’s emotional yo-yo. But it all seemed real. I secretly pinched myself on the arm as Elliot leaned closer.

He started with a kiss on the cheek. It was a peck, really, but he stayed close, his nose hovering by my cheek. He stroked his perfect little nose up and down the side of my face for a moment, and we both savored the closeness, the intimacy. One hand was in my hair, and the other petted my cheek while he placed little kisses along my jaw line.

Eventually he moved to my lips, and the instant our lips touched, I lost it. It was like a switch flipped at I was all over Elliot; my hand in his long hair; my mouth devouring his, claiming every inch of his mouth as mine. Elliot seemed to enjoy it, if his whimpers and frantic pawing at my sides was anything to go by.

I let our kiss slow down eventually. I pulled back to see his usually smooth, thin lips were swollen from my violent nips and sucking. I decided that I would never want to see his lips in any other condition than that. He looked so wrecked; so vibrant; so alive.

Our foreheads rested together while my hand remained tangled in his hair.

“This isn’t all because my mom died, is it? This isn’t some kind of pity thing, right?”

Elliot chuckled despite the fact that I brought up my dearly departed mother, which had to mean that my latter comment was awfully funny.

“I actually was planning on showing up on your doorstep on Christmas Day. I had a whole speech written out; to ask you for forgiveness and to give me a chance to love you back.”

My eyes prickled upon hearing Elliot’s former plans. “You were really going to do that? What about your family, and your fiancée…?”

“I already told you, Mick. That’s all over. I came out to my parents last month, at Thanksgiving, and that’s when I broke the news to Lexi, too. I sacrificed everything to become who I know I am, and I haven’t regretted a thing.”

“How did your family take it?”

Elliot shrugged. “A few tables got turned over. They fought. I moved out, and… Now they’re okay with it, I guess. As long as I don’t flaunt it in front of them they tolerate me just fine.”

“Wow… I’m so _proud of you_ Elliot… I wish you would have asked me to help. I could have been there when you came out, you know.”

“I _love_ that you would volunteer yourself for something as torturous and awkward as that… but it was something I had to do myself. Besides, I had to make sure what I felt for you was real. I needed to be away from you for a while to make certain that it wasn’t just a fleeting crush.”

“Oh? And what have you decided?”

“That I am most definitely in love with you; I have been for a while.”

Elliot leaned in for another kiss and I gladly obliged. Our kiss was loving, yet cautious. It was like neither of us really believed that this was really happening. Despite our caution, I could tell that Elliot was not as new to this as he used to be. I felt jealous instantly.

“Elliot, I have to tell you something.” I gasped out when our lips disconnected just a hair’s breadth.

“Mmmm.. yes?”

“I… I’ve been in a sexual relationship, with Emile. It’s not a _real_ relationship, but…”

“It’s okay.” Elliot nodded a little too quickly. “I mean, I will be _insanely_ jealous for all eternity, but I understand. Besides, I’m not exactly a blushing virgin, either.”

It shouldn’t have made me hot to think about Elliot having sex with another guy, but it did. Suddenly all arousal suddenly vanished when I thought perhaps he was talking about Lexi…

“I slept with a guy I met online.” Elliot divulged.

I let go of a huge lungful of air that I’d been holding hostage. “Oh, God… Before you said that I thought you meant that you and Lexi…”

“No, God, no.” Elliot cringed and shook himself dramatically, obviously trying to get the image out of his head. Then he looked back up at me, and his brilliant, million-watt smile returned. “So you’re not upset that I had sex with someone else?”

“No, Elliot. In fact, I guess I’m kind of relieved. I’m so glad that you know who you are; that you’ve accepted it and embraced it. I’m so damn proud of you.” I kissed his little freckled nose, and worked my way towards his lips, kissing a trail slowly until I was tongue-deep inside Elliot’s patient, warm mouth. He made cute little whimpers when I used my teeth to lightly bite his lips, and I could tell he was really enjoying himself; the boner pressing against my thigh was a dead giveaway.

Elliot pulled away first, breathing heavily and obviously close to finishing in his jeans. “Look, Mick…. I don’t think we should take this further until… you know… until things have cooled down, emotionally.”

There we were again, talking about my dead mom, who was still dead, and would continue to be dead, despite all the love and sympathy from my two lovers.

I nodded, even though I didn’t want to agree. I wanted to rip Elliot clothes off and fuck him; I wanted to feel good inside of Elliot instead of rotten and guilty inside myself.

 

 

 

Mom’s memorial service was held at the only funeral home in town. It was a lot easier to put together than I thought it would be. Both Eliot and Emile helped me sort out what little assets and money mom had, and we put two thousand dollars of her savings towards cremation and the memorial service. I tried not to feel disgusted at how much money people make from the deaths of other peoples’ loved ones; it was morbid and detestable, in my opinion.

There were five people at the service to start, but as the sad prelude music played, and I just sat staring at the small black box on the podium that held my mom’s ashes, several more chairs filled up and before long a steady hum of soft voices and whispers filled the air. I turned around to see about twenty people, all there to remember mom. It almost made me start crying again; for the millionth time in the last twenty-four hours.

I don’t even remember what the service was like. I just remember feeling sad, and guilty, and appreciative of all the people who said nice things about mom. A couple of times I felt expectant gazes in my direction; people wanted me to say something.  But I couldn’t. I wasn’t ready to talk about mom’s death. If I opened my mouth I was afraid that all the dark thoughts would just come spilling out. I was afraid that I would tell people that it was all my fault; that I had a bad feeling about mom not calling me, and I should have gone to check on her. I was so selfish; too caught up in my own pointless life to save my own mom.

After the service, I quickly walked outside, not wanting to talk to anyone; not wanting the pity party that was bound to arise should I stick around.

I felt a hand on my shoulder, and I figured it was one of my two lovers. I looked up, and my heart stopped.

Dad. It was my dad.

 

“Hello Mickael. It’s good to see you.”

My dad looked as much of a deadbeat as the last time I saw him thirteen years ago. I recognized him because until I was eight years old I cried myself to sleep at night, holding a picture frame that held the photo of me and him. His image was etched into my memory like a cigarette burn.

I shrugged the hand off my shoulder so fast it was as if he’d just wounded me. “Get the fuck away from me, you prick.”

“Hey, now that’s no way to talk to your father, is it?”

“You’re not my father. You _abandoned_ me, remember?”

“You know, I’m a little hurt that you never called me about your mom.” The obviously drunk, arrogant dickwad ignored my comment about his abandonment.

He tried to touch my arm, but I jolted away. “If you so much as touch me, I will kill you.” I was serious. This was serious. I could tell that a few people leaving the service were staring at us, but I didn’t care.

“Now, Mick, don’t over react.”

“Overreact? I haven’t seen your ugly mug for thirteen years! You expect me to just flock to you and want to be your little boy again? I don’t think so. You don’t get to do that, you _asshole_.”

Emile and Elliot heard the commotion and ran to me. I didn’t even realize that I lunged forward until I felt two sets of hands holding me back, keeping me from ripping that fucker’s throat out.

“Mick, it’s okay. Let’s just leave…” Elliot sounded scared; he’d never seen me angry like this; _I_ had never seen me so angry, either.

I knew Elliot was right. Without removing my murderous gaze from dad’s drunk, hazy one, I shook my arms away from my lovers’ grip and reluctantly nodded my surrender. I gave one last look at the sad, pathetic, gaunt figure; the sad excuse of a man that fathered my existence, before slowly turning away, never to look upon him again.

 

 

“I’m sorry about your dad.”

Right after the heated event at the funeral home, Elliot and I were lying together on the guest bed at Emile’s house. Elliot was the little spoon. I could have just laid there for eternity with him; never a care or worry in the world.

“Yeah, well… I’m sorry you had to see me so mad. It’s been such an emotional day that I was just raw, you know? I think basically anything could have set me off.”

“I understand. I know you’re not an angry person. You don’t get angered easily, anyway.”

A realization suddenly struck me and it made my stomach sink a little: Elliot’s father was an angry man. I had to be careful not to trigger any fearful emotions in Elliot. I didn’t want to be anything like his father; I didn’t want to be anything like _my_ father. I didn’t want to be angry.


	13. True

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things heat up between Elliot and Mick. Shameless smut.

“How did you know?” Elliot spoke quietly into the darkness as we were falling asleep on the bed together. It was the day after Christmas; a holiday that meant nearly nothing to me, but was Elliot’s favorite day of the year.

“Hmm? Know what?”

“That you were gay? How did you figure it out? When did you know for sure?”

I stretched a little, trying to wake myself up enough for a serious conversation. “Well, it’s a weird story.”

“Weirder than mine?” Elliot said with a smile in his voice.

I chuckled a little. “No I guess not.” I leaned over Elliot’s lithe form and flicked on the lamp so I could see him. I kissed his lips briefly while moving back to my own space on the bed. Once we pulled away I visually took him in for a moment, still not believing that we were really here, in the bed together. After all this time. It still didn’t feel real.

“I always knew I was gay, before I even knew what the word for it was. I was never into girls. I practically detested girls from day one. You know all those stereotypes about gay guys and their girl best friends? I’ve literally _never_ had a female friend. They… repulse me. They’re annoying, and clingy, and… well, you get the point.”

“So all your friends were boys? Growing up?”

“No, I didn’t really have any friends. Girls were annoying, and boys were _terrifying_. My whole childhood I only had one friend, from third grade until tenth grade. His name was Oliver. He was my first. In many ways. My first friend, first kiss, first handjob…”

“In _third grade_?”

“ _No_ , God, no. It was ninth grade. We were both freshmen; nervous, awkward, sexually charged, and just… _ready_. We jerked off in a bathroom stall at school. I don’t think I’ve ever cum so fast in my life. I think the whole thing lasted like… three minutes? Maybe?”

Elliot laughed, and I suddenly remembered our first time; Elliot came in my mouth pretty damn quick, too. “I guess I didn’t break the record, huh?” He said playfully, and I just had to lean in and kiss those perfect lips. We sat there kissing for some time, just enjoying the feeling of finally being a part of one another’s lives.

“So did something happen between you two? Why aren’t you still friends?” Elliot asked.

“He moved away. His parents found out that he was gay; they found some incriminating _magazines_ in his bedroom. It didn’t take them long to find out that their sons ‘best friend’ was really his boyfriend. We hadn’t done much other than jerking off and kissing, but just being _together_ was enough to send his parents off the deep end and they moved away.”

“I’m sorry.” Elliot stroked his hand up and down my cheek, and it felt good.

I leaned into his touch, practically purring as I continued, “I took it hard. I quit school, got into drugs a little bit, and alcohol… until my mom tried to kill herself, again… and it really sobered me up quick. But I didn’t go back to high school.”

“Well… I’m glad it’s worked out now; your education, I mean.”

“Yeah…”

“So, was Oliver the only other person you’ve slept with? Besides Emile?”

I frowned. I didn’t feel ashamed of my sexual history, but I knew that if I was honest with Elliot I would probably come across as a bit of a slut. But there was no way that I could start off our relationship with lies; I had to be honest.

“No, I’ve had sex with lots of guys, Elliot.” I confessed quietly. I watched his face for any sort of reaction, but all I got was an expectant look; he was waiting for me to continue.

“I hooked up with guys from the high school after I dropped out; closeted or curious guys who wanted a no-strings-attached sort of arrangement. They usually paid me for it.”

“Oh.” Elliot’s face turned pale at the mention of payment.

“I’m clean, don’t worry, and I always have been.”

Elliot nodded, obviously still processing it all. “So, how many guys do you think you slept with?”

“I guess, thirteen or so? Most of them multiple times… look El; we really don’t have to go into detail about all of this.”

“No I want to know. Mick if we’re going to be together, which is what I want, then we need to be completely open and honest with each other.”

“Okay. You’re right.” I threw up my hands in mock surrender, a mischievous grin accompanying it.

“So tell me about that guy you met online…”

 

 

 

The next day Elliot and I spent some time cooking in the kitchen. Turns out he was an excellent cook. He knew how make a really tasty shrimp gumbo and even though I never liked seafood I tried it and thought it was great; just on the edge of too spicy, but still delicious. We shared a few tantalizing kisses after sampling the spicy dish while it simmered on the stove. I chuckled a little as our numb lips moved clumsily against the others’.

 Emile came home from work, and the very instant he walked in the door he gave me and Elliot a good long look; like he was sizing us up.

“You two look like a pair of love birds.” He said suggestively. “I am happy to see it.”

Elliot gripped me by the hips in a showing-off gesture, like he was flaunting our happiness right under Emile’s nose.

The good doctor walked close, into our personal space, and said to me in a low tone. “I hope you haven’t forgotten our _agreement_.” His eyes were dancing with mischief, like he was serious, but not. It made me a little uneasy and Elliot even more so, since he had no idea what the ‘agreement’ was.

Emile did not regard Elliot, who now clung to me for an entirely different reason, and he took a quick taste of the red liquid in the pot of gumbo.

“Mmm… Very good. A little spicy, just like you two…” Emile gave us a flirtatious smirk. “We going to have dinner, or what?”

 

Dinner was a little awkward. While we all sat around the table I desperately tried to figure out how to deal with Emile. He wasn’t being too overbearing, and he was far from unreasonable. And so far, I had not broken the exclusivity arrangement we made over a year ago; Elliot and I had only kissed; we hadn’t done anything sexual. Yet.

I considered the ‘moving out’ option. But where would I go? Finding a place to live would take time; time that I didn’t want to spend waiting to fuck Elliot. I could move in with Elliot… But I hardly wanted to put that kind of pressure on him. We hadn’t even had sex; we were hardly an established couple.

“Emile? Could I talk to you? Um… Privately? Please?” I asked him once we all finished three big helpings of Elliot’s delicious creation.

Emile followed me to the bedroom upstairs, and I ignored the questioning look Elliot gave us as we sauntered off together.

He had me pinned against the bedroom wall in split second, before I had time to say a word. He was kissing and biting my neck. The slight bit of stubble on his chin scratched my skin just right and it was sending shivers down my spine.

“Emile…” I whimpered as he was already palming me, putting pressure on my involuntarily growing erection. “I actually wanted to _talk_ … not this…”

“But you want this _too_ , right? Oh Mickael you have no idea how hot you’ve made me; seeing you kiss that sweet little boy. Is he a virgin? I’ll bet you want to be the one to pop his cherry, hmmm? Fuck him good and hard on that sweet cock until he begs to cum.”

The dirty talk would have normally turned me into a lust-ridden puddle, but this time it wasn’t working. I really, actually had things I needed to talk to Emile about; things that couldn’t wait.

“Emile _stop_.” I finally said, and apparently forcefully enough, because Emile completely ceased all movement; all the kisses and bites. Everything completely stopped. He looked at me, looking very somber and confused; the lust was gone from his eyes.

“I’m finally getting somewhere with Elliot. As much as I really enjoy our time together, I think Elliot and I need some time to establish ourselves as a couple, before we can add… anything else. Okay?”

Emile nodded.

“I’m still going to keep our agreement. I’ll move out. I’ll find a place to stay-”

“Nonsense.” Emile interrupted me. “You will stay here; _both_ of you, if Elliot wants. You stay here, make love all you want, get married, whatever you wish.”

“But what about you?”

“I have been offered a short-term administrative position at a hospital in South Africa. I think I’ll take it. I will only be gone three months. In that time you can watch after my house, and you and Elliot can decide what you want to do. You can move out, stay here with me, or whatever. You’d have three months to get settled as a couple, and decide if you want to include me, too.”

I was utterly speechless upon hearing Emile’s offer. It was almost as unexpected and shocking as the first proposal he gave me.

“I don’t know what to say, Emile... It sounds too good to be true.”

My lover laughed. “Oh Mick. You have been ‘too good to be true’ for me for the last year and a half. I think I can at least _try_ to return the favor.” Emile looked as if he wanted to kiss me again, and I let him, briefly.

“I guess that leaves just one question.”

“Hmmm? Yes?”

“Can we get a cat?”

 

 

 

 

Emile said no to the cat. He was deathly allergic. Despite my disappointment, I was still happy about our amended arrangement. I had no idea what we would decide in three months, if Elliot would want to share a house and a bed with Emile and me, but it would certainly be worth a try.

 

 

“I think we should take a shower.” Elliot randomly commented while we sat on the couch watching television after our long days at our respective jobs.

I was surprised at Elliot’s suggestion. Did he mean we should shower _together_? I decided not to ask, and to just see what happened… It had been a week since Emile left for Africa and Elliot and I hadn’t done anything more than kiss and fondle each other through our layered clothes. It really made me wonder how the guy he met on the internet a few months ago got into his pants in just one night…

 

Elliot took my hand and practically dragged me towards the bathroom, and I would be lying if I said I didn’t get hard just thinking about being in a shower with him. He peeled off his shirt once we were in the big master bathroom, and I followed suit. The pants came off next.

Pleasant memories of all the fun things Dr. Emile and I did together in this room came flooding back to me. He and I had fucked, licked, sucked, and jerked-off in the big steam-room shower more times than I could count. I tried to rein in my overwhelming desire to do the same kind of things with Elliot.

I reminded myself that I was letting Elliot take the lead on how far we went sexually. He was still new to his own sexuality; the last thing I wanted was to make him uncomfortable.

We were both naked now; it was the first time we’d seen each other like this. Elliot tried not to stare, and I did my best to look at his face, and not the rest of his perfectly slim form.

He turned on the two shower heads, allowing time for the water to heat up. “Emile has such a huge shower. I don’t think I’ve ever been in a steam room like this.”

“It’s certainly nice for having more than one person in it.” I made sure to sound very pleased that he invited me to shower with him.

He leaned his head back into the water spray to wet his hair, and shivered a little. “Not warm enough yet. We’ll have to wait.”

“Oh. Well what will we do to pass the time?” I asked smugly.

“I haven’t the slightest idea.” The coy response was followed by a kiss to my lips. The kiss was incredible; nothing like anything I’d ever felt. The shivers from the cold air against my completely naked skin, and the heat of Elliot’s bare body pressing against me combined perfectly together; it felt like every nerve in my body was being prickled with little jolts of electric pleasure.

My cock was hard and throbbing against Elliot’s stomach, and I could feel his own arousal against my hip. He backed us up into the shower spray, not breaking us apart for anything. The warm water flowed over us and the steam rose up and all around like a pleasant billowing smoke from a fire. Continuing the metaphor, Elliot and I were the fire.

I pumped some soap onto my hand from a bottle that was the closest convenient reach, and I spread a soapy lather down his sides, up and down his arms, and all across his back. The kiss intensified, and Elliot made little whimpering noises as I explored his perfect body. He took some soap too, and he made some tentative touches to my body.

I moved my hands further down his back until I was fondling his tiny ass. I whimpered into his mouth when he did the same to me. We both moaned when it turned into shameless touching; the pretense of cleaning each other went completely down the drain along with the suds and hot water.

I reached for his cock and stroked it lightly, smiling when I felt him quake with pleasure.

He gripped my own erection and it made me groan. “Elliot. Oh God that feels so good.”

Elliot smiled against my shoulder as he moved his kisses there, still keeping a firm stroking pace on my cock. He used teeth while he kissed my collarbone and by that time we were both nothing but gasping messes, full of lust and the need for release.

A surge of something feral coursed through my body, and without warning I spun Elliot around and pinned him to the far wall of tile. I kissed a trail down his neck, his back, and all the way down to his ass. I waited for a full second, to see if Elliot had any objections, and hearing none I parted his pert cheeks and kissed in between. Without hesitation I licked the tiny hole that twitched and quivered under my touches.

Elliot was a moaning, pleading puddle of goo in seconds.

“Mick… Oh… I’m so close.” He confessed with a hint of embarrassment hiding in his lusty voice.

I carefully slid one finger past his tight ring of muscle and aimed for that special place inside him that would take him apart completely.

“Ah!” Elliot cried out and jerked his hips violently when I found his prostate. He rolled his hips forward and back, effectively fucking himself on my finger, and I noticed a continuous trembling wracking his entire body. I reached around to milk his cock while I thrust my finger into him insistently, and I was rewarded with the most heavenly sound.

“I’m coming!” Elliot whimpered. I felt him clench hard as his body tensed and his cock twitched and spent his seed all over the tiled wall. Once he started to come down from his high, I carefully slipped my finger out of him and stood up.

He turned to face me, and we stepped back under the water spray, although the hot water was much cooler by now. Elliot rinsed off quickly and turned off the shower. Immediately his lips were on mine, but it was a lazy, satiated kiss, not heated and lusty like before.

“I want to do something for you.” Elliot murmured against my lips. He took my still-hard cock into his hand and stroked it gently. It didn’t take me long to climax; the heat of the steam room, the erotic nature of what I’d just done with Elliot, all of it contributed to my critical state of arousal and seconds after Elliot began stroking I was coming, moaning against his soft lips and ejaculating all over his flat stomach.

“It looks we’re going to need another shower.”


	14. Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shameless smut. No regrets. No apologies. You're welcome.

Elliot and I lived like a pair of honeymooning lovebirds despite the fact that we both worked fifty hours a week. The moment we got home from work, we showered together, ate dinner, and shared a bowl of ice cream on the couch while we watched some doctor mystery drama show that Elliot liked so much.

 It was like that for four weeks.

And we still hadn’t fucked.

“Elliot?” I started our conversation the moment our show ended.

“Yes love?” He was calling me that now. And I secretly love it. I still just called him ‘El’ or ‘Elliot.’ None of that cheesy nickname stuff.

“I… have been kind of wondering why you and I haven’t-”

“Made love?”

“Well I was going to say ‘fucked,’ but yes.”

Elliot sighed, and looked into the empty ice cream bowl as he thought long and hard.

“Did you have a bad experience? With that guy you met online? Henry… or whatever-his-name was?”

“Henrik.” Elliot corrected. “And… I guess, yeah it was kinda intense, and awkward, and not really all that great. But I really like what you and I have been doing together. That’s been very fun.”

“Did he hurt you? I mean, did it hurt?”

“Yeah, it hurt like a mutherfucker.”

My eyebrows rose dramatically and an impressed smile spread across my face; Elliot hardly ever swore, and he certainly _never_ dropped the F-bomb.

“Well, Jesus, Elliot. You know it’s not _supposed_ to hurt, right? It’s supposed to feel good. He probably didn’t spend enough time prepping you.”

“He did. It was like, half an hour of his fingers… inside me…” His face turned a deep red upon elaborating. “And it was awful, Mick. I hated it.”

“Would you… let me try it? You know me; I’ll stop if you ask. Just say the word and I’ll stop and forget the whole thing; _forever_ if you want. Hell, thanks to Emile, I bottom now too, so even if you hate it, we can still fuck as much as you want.”

Elliot nodded, still looking a bit anxious. “I’ll try it, Mick.”

 

 

Ten minutes in bed with Elliot and I was sure he was about to fall apart like an apartment building in an earthquake. He was a melted mess, moaning and begging for my fingers to go deeper, harder. But I couldn’t. It was physically impossible for my fingers to go any deeper; I knew that soon he would beg for my cock to fill him up like he needed.

I thrust my fingers torturously slowly in and out, purposefully avoiding his prostate, just because I didn’t want our fun to end so soon.  

Elliot was slick with sweat and completely lust driven at this point. His body was high on the euphoric need for release. “Mick… Oh God… It feels so good. You’re driving me insane with your fingers… I need more.”

“Hmm? How much more? What do you need?”

“You… All of you. Please.”

“You sure you’re ready?”

“Mmhmm…” He hummed and nodded, and I believed him.

I grabbed a condom from my pocket and tore the packaging open. I didn’t realize the full extent of my own excitement until I tried putting the condom on with fumbling, shaking hands. I was so ready for this.

I used lots of lubricant; on him and me, because the last thing I wanted was for Elliot to feel any pain.

I watched his face intently as I slid half my length inside his tight warmth. He looked blissfully pleased; no sign of any pain or discomfort. I thrust my hips forward and my balls met his ass; we were finally joined. And I had never felt anything more incredible.

“Oh God… Elliot. You have no idea…”

“I _do_ have an idea…” He whispered despite sounding completely wrecked and already exhausted, despite the fact that neither of us had climaxed yet. “You feel so good inside me, Mick.”

“You haven’t seen the half of it yet.” I winked at him before pushing myself up onto my hands for a better thrusting angle, and I began slowly moving in and out of Elliot’s tighter-than-tight ass. I had to take deep, calming breaths in order to stave-off my own release; I didn’t want to cum yet.

Elliot soon returned to his goo-like consistency; a state of shameless curses and moaning. I took it easy on him; partially so I didn’t cum yet and also because I didn’t want Elliot to get too overwhelmed.

Despite my light rocking and thrusting, all too soon I felt his ass get impossibly tighter around me and his whole body tensed. A soft cry escaped him and I watched in awe as he shot a huge load of cum all over his chest, his cock completely untouched.

The sight, sensations, and sound of Elliot coming were so erotic, it sent me over the edge too, and I spent myself deep inside him, groaning with the intense pleasure. I was careful not to crush him as I collapsed, but for the next half hour no more logical thought beyond that entered my mind. We were both completely out.

 

 

 

The three months went by like a whirlwind, though I had to admit I missed Emile a little; he really made a good partner. He was dependable, handsome, and a little humorous at times. He was so good at being devoted and completely putting 100% of his attention on whatever we were doing together. He was never absent minded.

He was almost perfect. But he wasn’t Elliot.

Three months had gone by of me and Elliot working, and cuddling, and having sex (finally), and making different kinds of exotic dishes for dinner.

In three months, lots of things changed. Lots of things stayed the same. Elliot and I were still madly in love. My mom was still dead. We still needed a cat.

Camp Firewood went out of business. No surprise there, but it was rather sad to hear they were being foreclosed on. Elliot and I sort of joked about buying the place at the upcoming Sheriff’s auction. The joking turned into a serious discussion, which then turned into more joking. We weren’t ready for something like that, right? Buying a camp? What the hell would we do with it anyway?

 

 

Emile returned from Africa. He looked so fucking tan. My mouth literally watered upon seeing him walk in the door and flash that perfectly white smile that contrasted so starkly with his now bronze-toned skin.

He hugged me, and I hugged him back. He smelled like mint and pineapple; and yeah, a little bit like body odor; but hey, he just flew in from frickin’ Africa. He was allowed a little bit of sweat along the way.

 

“I should shower, baby.” He murmured into my shoulder once he noticed that I was thoroughly breathing in his scent like a real creeper.

I let him go, but only because I wanted him to shower. I had a plan. And a shower was part of it.

As soon as Emile headed upstairs to the master bedroom, I launched into action.

 

“Elliot.” I found Elliot in the guest bedroom, reading a book. “Emile’s back!”

“Yeah?” Elliot made no movement to get up. “And?”

“ _Remember_? What we talked about?”

“You want to do that _now_? He hasn’t even been home five minutes and you already want to-”

“Yes! Come on, he’s in the shower. Let’s do it.”

Elliot rolled his eyes but he set down the book anyway and followed me, like the good little obedient boyfriend he always was.

 

 

Emile walked out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist and a towel fluffing through his sopping wet (and shockingly much longer) hair. He didn’t notice Elliot and I until he plopped the towel on the bed which we occupied.

We were making out on Emile’s huge bed. I was straddling Elliot’s lap, completely naked. He was naked too, but a thin bed sheet was strewn across his lap since he felt like being modest for the moment. I could feel him vibrating beneath me, all nerves and excitement. I was excited too.  We completely and purposefully ignored Emile’s gawking. In fact we ignored Emile altogether.

I kept kissing Elliot, making moaning sounds every time he stroked my hard cock just right and sent electric jolts of pleasure through my body.

 “You naughty boys…” Emile’s shock caused his voice to become nothing but a harsh, cracked whisper. I felt him mount the bed as the mattress dipped a little, but we still ignored him, keeping our focus on just the two of us enjoying an intimate make-out session.

“You are so tempting… It is so hard not to touch.”

I finally parted my lips from Elliot’s and gave Emile a lusty glare. “Then why don’t you?”

Emile was already hard and twitching with arousal, and the moment I turned to meet him he kissed me.

Our lips tangled familiarly; it felt good to kiss him again after three months of being apart. Elliot kept up his pace on my cock, and I soon realized that I was dangerously close to finishing. My hand flew over to Elliot’s, effectively stopping him by lacing our fingers together and clasping them together intimately.

I remembered to multitask, using my left hand to stroke Elliot while I kissed Emile, who knelt behind me.

Emile separated from us for a moment, likely seeking the items we would need to get down to business. While he was away, I went back to kissing Elliot, who was still a shaking, moaning mess.

“You doing okay?” I whispered against his perfect, smooth lips. This was a first for the both of us; a threesome. Elliot and I had both decided to try something that was brand new for him and me.

“Yeah. Let’s just take it slow.”

“You’re already doing so amazing, El.” I assured him before kissing him some more and running my fingertips lightly and methodically against his back, making him shiver.

Before I realized Emile was back on the bed he was suddenly right behind me, placing wet kisses on my neck. Not long after, I felt slick fingers prodding at my entrance.

“Oh God,” I moaned against Elliot’s mouth. It had been at least a few weeks since Elliot and I had used my ass, and the feeling of Emile’s confident, experienced fingers massaging me open brought me to a whole new level of arousal.

“You’re so tight, Mick. Has your boy not been using you while I was away?” Emile growled low in my ear as two fingers shoved into me harshly.

I could only whimper in reply, because Elliot had me in a serious lip lock, his hands were in my hair and around the back of my neck, keeping me from going anywhere for a full thirty seconds. Finally he let me go, leaving me panting for air.

“I want Elliot to fuck me.” I said breathlessly. “He’ll get me nice an open for your cock. Then I want you to fuck me… Then I want you both-”

A loud, aroused gasp from Emile cut me off. “Oh Mick, I would love that… You are going to look so beautiful stretched on two cocks. It will be so wonderful.” He kissed me, and I ignored the pinch in my neck from turning my head nearly completely backwards.  

Elliot took the initiative and put a condom on and slicked himself up with generous amounts of lubricant. Emile guided my hips towards Elliot’s cock and I sunk down on it easily and smoothly, earning a pleasured groan and a gasp from Elliot. Emile was kissing my neck while I kissed my younger lover.

Two pairs of smooth, soft hands caressed me from both sides, and I felt thoroughly spoiled and loved on. I felt complete; having my two lovers here in bed with me. Elliot didn’t let me just sit there on his cock for long. He gripped my hips tightly, urging me to ride him. And I did.

 

Eventually I let Elliot lay down on the bed; the sitting position was getting too tiresome for the both of us, and I followed him, lying chest to chest with my sweet angel while we fucked as languidly and unhurried as our first time.

Emile caressed my back, using his fingernails lightly at certain spots and it sent shivers all throughout my body. His fingers roamed to where the two bodies were joined; Elliot and I. His fingers explored the slightly stretched rim of my ass, and I moaned at the foreign sensation of being fucked into and fondled at the same time. It was almost too much, and I briefly wondered how on earth I was going to handle being fucked by both men at once.

I knew Elliot was close when his thrusts into me were brief, and reserved rather than the long and hard pace we started with. Without Elliot’s permission I slid off his cock, smiling when I saw the partially dejected, pouty look flash across his face, but it soon turned blank with pleasure when I started l playing with his own hole.

Emile read my mind and quickly squirted some lube onto my hand and I went right back to fingering Elliot, who was far, far away from complaining now.

Emile slicked up his own covered cock and started pushing roughly into me from behind, and he didn’t stop pushing until his chest was pressed firmly against my back and he was all the way inside of me.

The stretch burned a little, but the angle was so perfect I didn’t care. His cock was rubbing right onto my prostate from the get-go, and my legs were turning to jelly underneath me.

I gently pulled my three fingers out of Elliot and lined my cock up with his prepped, and yet still oh-so-tight hole. I couldn’t even remember when I’d rolled the condom on, but I was grateful it was there, because there was no stopping me once I felt Elliot’s sweet warmth practically draw my cock inside, like he was begging me to enter.

I wrapped his skinny legs around both me and Emile, and smiled as I realized just how perfect the set up was. I felt like we were all three made for each other.

“Mick…” Elliot gasped and shook and became completely incoherent the moment I started moving in and out of him very slowly, allowing the thin layer of latex to drag over the rim of his sensitive insides.

I was having a difficult time staying composed myself; every time I moved my hips Emile’s cock moved in my ass, as my own cock moved inside Elliot’s. It was an incredibly foreign but all too welcome feeling and I quickly decided I loved it.

My nervous system was on complete overload, however. I couldn’t stop shaking and it took every bit of willpower I had just to keep moving, back and forth, ever-so-slightly.

I tried my best to please Elliot, and he looked like he was certainly enjoying himself, despite the lack of rough thrusting that we had both grown accustomed to. If I did this kind of tepid fucking on a normal day, without a huge cock up my ass, I would be a legitimately lousy fuck.

I stroked Elliot’s leaking cock, and enjoyed the chorus of lusty moans from my angel.

“I want you to fuck me, Emile, fuck me like you mean it.”

Emile needed no further encouragement. He gripped my hips tightly and fucked in and out with an unforgiving, bordering on brutal pace.

I lost almost every single thought in my mind, but I had some semblance of sanity to make sure my cock didn’t get jarred from its lovely place in Elliot’s ass.

Elliot felt the force of every thrust second-hand, and even that was making him slide upwards on the bed. Emile was a like a force of nature; a hurricane that could not be stopped.

I heard Elliot whimper underneath me and one look in his eyes told me that he was about to lose it. I was right there with him.

Impossibly tighter; unfathomably strained, Elliot climaxed with a loud groan and the sight of his spunk spilling all over my hand made me finish right there with him.

Emile slowed his thrusts, though he hadn’t finished, and he gave me a moment to pull out of Elliot’s oversensitive ass. I dealt with the condom quickly, tying it off and and tossing it to some unknown location to pick up later.

“You ready for more, baby?” Emile asked, though I wasn’t sure to which one of us.

 “Are you going to be able to fit us both, Mick?” Elliot asked me seriously, though his eyes were still swimming from the intensity of his orgasm.

I could only nod in response. I was getting too hot and bothered just thinking about taking both of my lover’s cocks inside me.

I positioned myself over Elliot again, consequently dragging Emile with me as I moved, and I straddled Elliot’s hips with my shaking legs and positioning my already filled ass right above his reviving erection.

Elliot used his fingers first, inserting two alongside Emile’s huge cock.

“Oh God….” We all three gasped out in one way or another. Emile and I remained completely motionless until Elliot was done slicking up his cock and pushing insistently, and rather blindly, at where his fingers had just been.

I helped, moving my hips a little until I felt the head pop inside, instantly echoed by three sets of gasps and pleasured curses.

And there I was. Riding two cocks. And I loved it. I was such a slut for it and I didn’t care.

Emile did most of the moving; he had the best position for it. Elliot loved being stimulated by the huge cock thrusting in and out, though never coming completely out but doing plenty to tease at it.

“You take our two cocks so good, Mick. You were born for our cocks, weren’t you baby?”

“Yes!” I couldn’t help but shout as someone’s cock was pressing relentlessly against my prostate. “I was born to take your cocks. Please fuck me harder!”

The dirty talk had never been more genuine. I was literally lost in the moment and couldn’t think of anything but how fucking incredible I felt in that moment; how much I needed them both to cum in my ass and call me their slut.

Emile knew. He always knew.

“You’re our slut, aren’t you? We can fuck you all day and it still wouldn’t be enough, would it?”

“Ahhhh!” I could only scream. The pleasure, the slight pain, it was getting to be too much. I felt Elliot’s hands grasp mine tightly, and it grounded me. For about half a second; then I was back to being physically overwhelmed.

“Oh God, Oh Fuck… Fucking Hell, Emile… Elliot, I’m going to cum on your cocks. I’m going to…”

I couldn’t finish my sentence. All the air was punched out of my lungs as my second climax took me higher than anything I ever felt.

The world was gone; everything was gone. I didn’t even know my name; I didn’t even know that I didn’t know my name. All I felt was the intense, overwhelming, orgasmic pleasure tingling every nerve inside my body and bringing me release.

 

Minutes later, I came to. Elliot was still beneath me, and I could hear his heartbeat as my sweaty head rested on his naked chest.

Emile was gently pulling out of me and the condom dragged along, obviously filled.

We were all three just a group of heavy breathing, euphoric lovers. I looked up at Elliot, to make sure he was okay, and he smiled back at me.

I moved towards his mouth and gave him a slow, lazy kiss.

 When we pulled away Elliot whispered, “We’ve _really_ got to do that again sometime.”


End file.
